Dear Diary,This morning I took Python, my horse( I dare not tell you why he is named so), to the Blacksmith's in Cobbler's Bottom as he needed a new shoe. What a handsome fellow he is, with his tousled blonde hair and glistening chest. (I mean the Blacksmith, not Python.) How I gripped and fingered my crop as he set to work. Even Python showed some interest but I am sure the Blacksmith is used to it. Returning home I almost trampled Old Colette Fairfax as she hobbled across the road. She may be old and frail but her voice carries a long way when she is hurling insults. This afternoon, I watched as Ned and Mrs Crutchlow took down the festive frippery and I was of great help in pointing out their errors, much as I am able to do when they are engaged in other domestic chores that are beneath me. I am sure they are grateful of my interest. The rest of the day was much more relaxing for me. I noticed a few flurries of snow at one point and had the wherewithal to get Ned to fetch more logs just in case. All was quiet this evening, until suddenly Father's Willie leapt upright and there was a great banging upon the front door. For a moment I thought it was Old Colette Fairfax, who had hobbled all the way here to offer further vituperation and I busied my self looking for lost objects behind the chaise longue. However, it was the Parson, all breathless and sweating. What a fuss he made. It seems that he is adamant he has seen a wolf down in the woods. I remember a similar incident not so long ago when he thought he was being stalked by a rampant badger and that led only to tragedy. Mrs Crutchlow led him into the scullery to find something to give him comfort. When I entered a short while later for some hot milk, whatever she had given him for comfort he must have lost down her ample cleavage, for that is where he appeared to be looking.
Dear Diary,I awoke this morning, quite stiff and ill at ease with the world. I fear I tossed a great deal in the night and got little sleep. I was greeted at breakfast, by Mother who enquired if I had laid eyes upon her green handled letter opener. I said "You mean the jaded one? " "Yes" she replied, "I appear to have mislaid it". I had to admit I had not seen it but felt that it would be found in due course. A little later as Fanny and I were passing the scullery, on our way to duet upon the pianoforte, Mrs Crutchlow beckoned us closer and spoke conspiratorially, saying "Mr Austen, I appear to have mislaid a cucumber! It was to be cucumber sandwiches for lunch." Was the day to be filled with mystery and disappearances? I turned to enquire of Fanny if she had any knowledge but she had vanished also. Yet later still, Mrs Crutchlow, once again apprehended me and this time all but man handled me into the larder. She stood and pointed at a shelf and there upon it lay the cucumber and the green handled letter opener. Yes, the jaded one! At that moment, Ned entered from the garden and came to see what transfixed us so. "It was not there earlier" said Mrs Crutchlow. The cucumber was not whole and a large piece had been sliced off the end, and was missing. Ned spoke saying, "Look at all those strange 'snicks' down the side". I believe he meant 'nicks' but he made his point, for indeed there were many marks upon the cucumber's length as if an attempt had been made to roughen it's appearance. It was a mystery indeed and we could think of no explanation, but Mother was grateful to have her letter opener returned and we did have cucumber sandwiches for lunch. It was strange,though, that Fanny did not have any as they are her favourite but she was looking a little flushed.This afternoon, I ventured out to call upon some old friends, the Meadows, who are up from London and staying in a remote cottage for the festive season. We went for a brisk walk despite the inclement weather and it was delightful to catch up with them and their very little news. Huddled for shelter against the bitter wind, atop a grassy knoll, I contemplated the 'joys of friendship'. Here were some friends who I rarely see and yet whenever we are together it is as if I only saw them yesterday. Maybe if they had more tales of activity and interest it would feel longer than yesterday, but nevertheless, I remember shivering there upon that knoll, with the dampness seeping into my breeches, and thinking how blessed I am with my friends. Of course I thought of absent friends also and what they mean to me and a warm glow came over me. Well, I thought it was a warm glow but it in fact turned out to be a sheep urinating down my back from a rock above. Mrs Meadows squeaked "Oh, that's lucky!" How can it be lucky? What idiotic friends I have!
Dear Diary,Dull again! As far as I see it this year seems very much like the last. However, I did catch a respectable perch in the pond this morning and took it as a gift to the ladies at Cobbler's End. Fanny has been a frequent visitor but it was the first time I had been invited to tea. Miss Mona Lott and Miss Constance Noring are agreeable company indeed and I think I see why Fanny is so drawn to them. I have recently discovered that Miss Lott has a passion for the Parson's organ, much like my own whereas Miss Noring is much more a lady of the outdoors. (She does not ride side saddle!). I presented them with my fish and we settled down to tea. The conversation was a little stilted at first, mainly about the weather. I enquired if they liked fish and they glanced at each other and agreed they did. I informed them that Mrs Crutchlow had recommended lotion for crabs and wondered if it would be the same for fish. There was a moment's silence, until Miss Noring said they were very fond of cucumbers too, at which point Fanny spluttered most of her tea across the rug. They have a very cosy accommodation and they said I was at liberty to finger their knickknacks. There was such an array of ornaments upon the mantle including a small china monkey playing upon a pink oboe which they said was Meissen. I had never heard of it before but I must confess I was very much taken by this Meissen Monkey and thought it delightful. We shall have to invite them back to the Grange soon and I will have to enquire of Mrs Crutchlow if there is indeed something surprising which she can make for our guests from cucumbers.
Dear Diary,Mr Ashforth has given me crabs! A package arrived this very morning, which he must have sent from the coast as he embarked for the Continent with Titus Canby. An attached note read ' A small token of my esteem'. I went straight to the Scullery and said " Mrs Crutchlow, Mr Ashforth has given me crabs. How would you deal with them?" She flushed for a moment and wrung her hands in her apron before replying, "Well Mr Austen, Sir, I would use a lotion." I was taken aback somewhat and said " I would have guessed boiling water but I bow to your expertise, Mrs Crutchlow" and handed her the package. I went into the garden for some air and came upon Ned finishing off his ornate covered seat beneath the large Beech tree. I complimented him on his magnificent erection and said I was very much looking forward to taking advantage of it when the weather improved. Ned is a good fellow and I must say, keen to better himself. I know he reads and often tries to impress with his growing lexicon. This morning, he informed me that Farmer Clamp has replaced his 'diseased' cock. I believe he meant 'deceased', yet I did not comment upon it and left him happy with his crevice tool. I encountered Titty Clamp in the lane and said I had heard news of her father's cock and enquired if he was content with it? She said he appeared to be and stated I would be very welcome to view it if the fancy took me. I shall now spend much of the day alone with my thoughts and look hopefully towards the coming New Year, oh and yes, there are the crabs to finish off later.
Dear Diary,So much has occurred in so little time. On Friday I visited upon Mr Fairweather and we ventured to Neston to meet up with some gentlemen acquantances of his. I was very nervous. As you know I am fond of and used to balls and the social intercourse that ensues throughout the night but I have never been invited into a gentleman's clique and wander from hostelry to inn cavorting and carousing for an evening. I am also not one who normally indulges in alcoholic beverages but on this occasion my apprehension at not fitting into the clique spurred me on to cast aside my inhibitions. I did drink and cavort and carouse and it was a very merry eve indeed. Mr Fairweather and I became better acquainted and I found his friends most agreeable. I confess, only to you, that I came to feel more for Mr Fairweather than a usual friendship. We returned to his residence in the early hours but I was unable to sleep with the events, experiences and sights of the night spinning about my head. I returned home the next morning to happily find Mrs Norris gone but there was news from Mr Ashforth contained in an epistle waiting upon the mantle. He had spent much of the festive period with his old acquantance Titus Canby and he was to tour abroad with him and he did not see any occasion in the future where he would be at liberty to call upon me again. I cannot say I was greatly disturbed by this news as my head in recent days has been filled with another. As if summoned by the fates Mr Fairweather called upon me in the afternoon as I had absent-mindedly forgotten an article of clothing, how careless of me, and he came to return it. I told him of Mr Ashforth's epistle and the events therein and he was most empathetic. I took a deep breath and revealed my true feelings for him. I was aware that I was at risk of him leaving me for ever but I have been taught to believe that honesty is of the greatest importance especially when it comes to affairs of the heart. Mr Fairweather was equally honest and, looking me in the eyes, said he could not reciprocate but cherished our friendship and hoped it would continue.I have no one to discuss and share these matters with, except you. I ardently hope I can hold onto Mr Fairweather's friendship, accept only his friendship and that my revelation will not change his opinion of me. Time will tell. Enough. My eyes are filling and I do not wish to blot you.
Dear Diary,Be still, my beating heart. Wish me luck.
Dear Diary,I fear I have eaten too much again. Each year I always vow to eat in moderation but fail magnificently. I ventured out for a ride upon Cobbler's Knob. Once atop, I was greatly troubled by wind. I cannot remember the last time I was blown so. I returned to the Grange and was informed that I had missed Mr Fairweather who had called upon me. It was not bad news though. He has invited me to call upon him tomorrow and we are to spend an evening out in the local hostelries with some gentlemen acquaintances of his. I must confess I am a little apprehensive and hope that I shall fit into his manly clique.
