Monday 31st December 1807

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.

Sunday 30th December 1807

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.

Friday 28th December 1807

Dear Diary,
Be still, my beating heart. Wish me luck.

Thursday 27th December 1807

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.

Tuesday 25th December 1807

Dear Diary,

Christmas in the bosom of one's family is a great joy, but I fear when it includes Mrs Norris's bosom also, it is a bosom too far. I expect many a young lady would have been happy to wake up this morning with a small portion of the bosom that woman greedily possesses. It is a great shame and mystery to me why that awful pug that is permanently clasped to her breast, is not suffocated. She remained in her room yesterday and did not take part in the searching for, collection and lighting of the Yule log. She did not even accompany us to the Chapel to attend the Midnight service. Miss Lott was upon the Parson's organ and I surmise it was she who I overheard practising last week.

Mrs Norris ventured down this morning as we gathered around the tree to exchange gifts. Her nose was still quite swollen from the goose attack, and I do declare my gift of a lace handkerchief was a joyous and delightfully inappropriate gift under the circumstances. Not even her gift of hand knitted stockings, (and I trust it was not by her hand), could dampen the glow I felt inside. Mrs Crutchlow lay on a magnificent feast, although Mrs Norris did not partake of the goose. I write now upon my bed and I ache from mastication. My final thoughts of the day are of Mr Fairweather, wherever and whoever he is with. I hope he has had a Happy Christmas and can only hope that his final thoughts might be of me.

Sunday 23rd December 1807

Dear Diary,
I have had an early Christmas present sent by the happy and joyous fates who have smiled down on me today. I rose reluctantly and descended to face a day in close proximity to Mrs Norris and her rodent. By noon my face was aching through maintaining a fixed smile whenever she discovered my various hiding places. I am certain there is Blood Hound blood in her and I can only surmise as to how it got there. Whilst she was "entertaining" me, this afternoon, with her thrilling tales of ' Cushions I have embroidered', we espied Titty Clamp approaching up the drive, fetching the goose for the Christmas feast. Mrs Norris was keen to examine it at close quarters and so we ventured into the Scullery. Mrs Crutchlow bristled as Mrs Norris swept in and I noticed she tightened her grip on the cleaver she was brandishing. Mrs Norris approached the bird lying limply upon the table top and prodded it's breast and let out a disappointed tut! I cannot say whether it was the prod, the tut or the bark of the beast clutched to Mrs Norris's expansive breast that did it, but at that moment, to everyone's amazement, the bird came to life and began to flap frantically. Mrs Norris stepped back with a scream , flinging her arms wide and I saw the pug fly through the air and land in a large pot of onion soup upon the stove. The bird had regained it's feet and flew at Mrs Norris and latched onto her nose with it's beak. I have never heard such a commotion, Mrs Norris's screams, the yelps of her pug swimming in the pot, the goose and a variety of new and interesting words that emanated from Mrs Crutchlow's direction. At that moment the outside door opened and Ned stepped in upon the scene. He quickly jumped back out closely pursued by Mrs Norris, who had seen a means of escape, and the angry goose and then Mrs Crutchlow and her cleaver. How I have laughed since at the sight of Mrs Norris, skirts hitched up hobbling across the lawn being chased by the goose and Mrs Crutchlow with a cleaver. They passed poor Titty, returning home, who stood aghast at the sight. The evening has been dull in comparison, and Fanny, Jane and I have had to avoid each others gaze for fear of erupting into raucous tittering. Mrs Norris is retired to her room and Mother is comforting her. The Pug is abed also and as subdued as I have ever seen it. The goose is plucked and hanging in the larder. There was no soup at dinner.

Saturday 22nd December 1807

Dear Diary,
We are returned from Netherton. Such an eve of thespic delights, the costumes, the scenery and the smell of grease paint, all brought back my desire to tread the boards myself once more. My Dick (Whittington) is legendary in these parts and is oft talked of amongst those who have been lucky enough to see it. I was able to acquaint my family with Mr Ashforth's Goolies who were also in attendance. Father had booked rooms at the Inn for the night but I scarcely slept due to all the unfamiliar creaks and groans that ensued throughout the night. I shall have to have to retire earlier tonight in compensation. The weather has turned milder and the frost that has been ever present this past week has thawed. As I sit now, I am watching a Robin on the ivy outside my window. He is singing a merry tune and no doubt overjoyed himself that the frost has gone....oh, he is away, panicked by the approach of a carriage. Heaven help us, Mrs Norris is come!

Friday 21st December 1807

Dear Diary,
I am quite moist with excitement and anticipation. Mother and Father have surprised us with tickets to see some travelling Thespians in Netherton. We are to leave this afternoon and return tomorrow. Adieu.

Thursday 20th December 1807

Dear Diary,
I remained abed for much of the morn and took great pleasure from my indolence. When I finally arose, I went to my water closet to refresh myself and returned to my bedchamber removing my nightshirt as I went. It was only when it was completely off that I noticed the face peering in at my casement window. It transpired that Father had asked a fellow from the village to clean the windows. I know not, who was the more surprised, but I saw the fellow trying hard to suppress a smirk as he looked askance. Later this afternoon, whilst out taking some air, I became aware of the unmistakable sound of someone tinkering with the Parson's organ as I approached the Chapel through the naked trees. I was not aware he was so free with his instrument and my dander was up. I contemplated sneaking through the vestry to peek upon the instrumentalist but returned home and found solace in Mrs Crutchlow's larder.

Wednesday 19th December 1807

Dear Diary,
I thought I was going to have to forego my weekly practice upon the Parson's organ as Ned informed me, after breakfast, that Farmer Clamp had asked him to assist in, dare I write it, inseminating a couple of ewes and he was unavailable for pumping. I was quite melancholy at the news but by some great fortune I chanced upon Mr Fairweather in the woods, whilst I was exercising Father's Willie. He was glad to pump whilst my fingers made merry and indeed Mr Fairweather said he had never seen such nimble fingers or seen an organ played so. I must confess it was not only my chest that swelled with pride but my head also. I did not think it appropriate for Willie to accompany us into church. I am sure The Lord loves all his creatures great and small but I doubt he would be amused if a small creature urinated by his altar, thus I tied Father's Willie to a gravestone outside. ( No one of note, I might add, just some old fellow from Cobbler's Bottom who died of the plague). Imagine then, if you may, my great consternation when we emerged to find Father's Willie vanished with nought but a steaming cluster of dottles to show he had been there. For a moment I felt quite faint but Mr Fairweather girded his magnificent loins and set off following the puppy's tracks which were faintly visible upon the frosty ground. We had not gone far when we came upon Farmer Clamp's daughter Titty, and there was Father's Willie nestled at her breast. It was a great relief and I thanked her most kindly. Mr Fairweather could not accompany me back to the Grange and so I alone, enjoyed Mrs Crutchlow's hot muffins. Such a day! I feel quite exhausted at the drama of it.

Tuesday 18th December 1807

Dear Diary,
How festive the house is looking and Mrs Crutchlow is busy most of the day creating all manner of sumptuous seasonal delights. I make the most of every opportunity and create false justifications for venturing into the scullery to sample her wares and nibble when she is inattentive. Ned brought in a fine brace of Woodcock whilst I was there this very afternoon. There is nothing finer than the taste of Woodcock to my mind. Father has begun to train his delightfully playful Willie to follow simple commands, though I must disclose little success thus far and I fear there is still a certain amount of random leakage about the house. The little mite will insist on teasing Fanny's Tuppence. Miss Noring and Miss Lott called this evening to thank Fanny for her help in preparing for their soiree yesterday. Their guests had remarked on their fine baps, and they were all in the parlour engaged in serious social intercourse when Father appeared and boomed "Leave Fanny's pussy alone!" Miss Lott screamed and Miss Noring and Fanny leapt to their feet in surprise and both were extremely flushed and red faced with shock, but laughed with relief when they realised Father was referring to his bothersome Willie which was needling Fanny's cat.

Monday 17th December 1807

Dear Diary,
How cold it is! I am constantly ashiver! I have spent much of the day warming my cockles by the fire and grateful of Mrs Crutchlow's hot broth. I have remained industrious by writing seasonal epistles to distant friends and my wrist is quite limp with the exertion. Fanny's wrists are equally aching, though she has been kneading baps down at Cobbler's End in the company of Miss Lott and Miss Noring who are expecting guests this evening. I have seen nothing of Mr Fairweather, though he is often on my mind and I wonder how he is engaged these frosty days. I hope his cockles are warm. Mrs Norris is to come for Christmas. I wonder, only to you, if Mrs Crutchlow knows how to stuff a pug!

Friday 14th December 1807

Dear Diary,
Nothing of great consequence or importance has occurred since I last fingered my quill. The Christmas season is approaching apace and I have scarcely had time for social intercourse. On Tuesday Ned assisted me in searching for a suitable tree for the parlour and on Thursday, after a spirited and festive session upon the Parson's organ, he accompanied me to Farmer Clamp's to pick out a goose. Ned certainly knows how to appreciate a finely formed bird whereas I confess I have no inclination in that area. I am sure when we finally fetch it from the farm that Mrs Crutchlow will be glad to stuff it.

Monday 10th December 1807

Dear Diary,
Forgive me my absence but I have been otherwise engaged. I must confess I believe Mr Pratt's balls to be somewhat overestimated. I had been looking forward to attending with much anticipation but found it lacking in atmosphere as his countenance lacks a chin. He was quite attentive to Fanny until she drew him aside and informed him that she would and could not return his affections and entreated him to pursue a more persuadable suitor. I fear they shall also have to be blind and without taste whatsoever. Poor Jane was shadowed by the limping Mr Scrote. I thought at one moment she had been careless with her wine but it transpired it was dribble on her shoulder and not her own. Mr Ashforth enjoyed the spectacle immensely and I was almost forgotten. He spent much of the evening guffawing with Titus Canby. I shall say no more on the matter. Miss Honey Pott was also in attendance and Mrs Norris contrived to bring us together at every opportunity. She is dainty on her feet; I refer to Miss Potts and not Mrs Norris, who looked like an overstuffed badger in her black and white gown. All talk was of the recent engagement of Miss Emma Chisett to Justin Nuth. They are to live in the North. May God help them! It was a great relief to return to Thrushcock Grange and I vow to avoid Mr Pratt's balls hereafter.
Mr Ashforth departed Saturday morning. My farewell was not as effusive as my greeting. I know not when I shall see him again. I hurried to the pond in the hope of chancing upon Mr Fairweather but he was not there. However, how happy I was to come across him in the woods, after Chapel on Sunday, and we spent a day of delightful conversation. I have invited him up to the Grange at his earliest convenience. I wonder if he would like to become acquainted with Blind Man in the Buff?

Thursday 6th December 1807

Dear Diary,
Such weather! When I stepped in a puddle atop the stairs this morning in my stocking feet I supposed the roof to have sprung a leak. Consider then, my relief and horror when I discovered that the leak had not, as supposed, come from the roof but from Father's Willie! Jane was most amused and Mr Ashforth roared so much he had to quickly attend his chamber pot before another leak occurred. We remained in the parlour much of the day and played Blind Man's Bluff. I was somewhat surprised when Mr Ashforth suggested we continue to play after my sister's had departed but came to appreciate its appeal. We are all eager to experience one of Mr Pratt's balls tomorrow and retired early... yet, Mr Ashforth desired to introduce me to a variation of our earlier game, he called Blind Man in the Buff that he had discovered in Greece and therefore we did not retire as early as intended.

Wednesday 5th December 1807

Dear Diary,
I am quite wearied in my desire to keep Mr Ashforth stimulated. I earnestly crave him to look back on his time at Thrushcock Grange with affection. We forsook playing upon the Parson's organ for a lengthy constitutional and for the most part the weather was kind. This evening we have practised our Cotillion and Scotch Reel and Mr Ashforth is indeed an accomplished dancer with much experience of balls. I confess I trampled Fanny's foot a number of times but she remained serene and composed. I have come to my chamber early and left him in the parlour. He is quite taken by Fanny's Tuppence and spends much of his evening stroking her.

Monday 3rd December 1807

Dear Diary,
I am quite exhausted with a surfeit of hard riding this past weekend. The journey to Netherton was through a storm, the like of which I have never seen. I can only liken it to riding through a waterfall for four hours. On arrival at the residence of Mr Ashforth's Goolies there was not a dry inch upon me nor in my saddle bag and after very quick introductions I was whisked up to the guest chamber to change into dry attire loaned by my good friend. When comfortable once more I returned to the sitting room and an evening of pleasant intercourse ensued. I am very much taken by these Goolies, large and small. Mr Ashforth and I remained as long as was polite before retiring to my bed chamber where we engaged in rigorous badinage until the early hours. I cannot tell you how my heart soared to be once more in my good friends company and I finally heard tell of how he came to eat beaver in the Canadian wastes. On Sunday, we accompanied the Goolies to Chapel and after a sumptuous repast, bad farewell and returned to Thrushcock Grange. Mr Ashforth has a great deal of riding experience and I had to ride hard to keep at his rear. How pleasing it is to have Mr Ashforth in the comfort of my own home. I am so glad Mr Ashforth has finally come!

Saturday 1st December 1807

Dear Diary,
December is upon us. How time flies. I ventured to the pond to fish once more this morn and came upon the Huntsman who had admired my rod last weekend. He is a Mr Fairweather from a place called Morley, staying with friends in the vicinity. He also was handling a magnificent rod and we compared length and stoutness. What an agreeable fellow he is and the morning past with a swiftness I have not known in recent weeks. I had to take my leave of him to return to the Grange after a time. We parted on good terms and hope to rendezvous once more at our earliest convenience. He expressed a desire to show me a ruined cottage he had found hereabouts.
Now I must away to Netherton to acquaint myself with Mr Ashforth's Goolies. I hope I find them pleasant.

Thursday 29th November 1807

Dear Diary,
Shocking news! Farmer Clamp's cock will rise no more. By the time I was aware I had overslept it was already lying limp. I did not hear the shot that killed it but Fanny did. Rumours abound as to who it was that fired the deadly shot but in truth no one really knows. It was indeed a rude awakening for Father's Willie. The poor little mite was trembling in Father's hands as he gently stroked its head, in his lap, at breakfast. Fanny and I spent much of the afternoon practising our waltzing in the dining room. The Parson called in this eve after visiting the Clamp's to offer his heartfelt condolences on their loss. He expressed his desire to meet Old Tom's successor and patted little Willie's head enthusiastically. I am not so easily fooled, well, not since Mrs Norris's recent contrivance and I believe the real reason for his visit was more of an inclination for getting his hands on Mrs Crutchlow's buns!

Wednesday 28th November 1807

Dear Diary,
As the mornings darken why is it that Farmer Clamp's cock rises earlier? Such an irritation that intrudes upon my slumber. I borrowed the stable lad, Ned, for part of the morning, once again, to help me pump the Pastor's organ whilst I played upon it. On the way home I encountered Miss Noring cantering upon a grey mare. I am not certain which shocked me more, the fact that she was wearing breeches or that she was riding astride rather than side-saddle as a lady should. This afternoon Father returned from Netherton with the pup which he has named Willie and brought news from Mr Ashforth. I am invited to Netherton to make acquaintance of his Goolies and he is to journey back to Thrushcock Grange with me. I shall go Saturday and return Sunday with my good friend. How I have missed him!

Tuesday 27th November 1807

Dear Diary,
I spent the morning in rustic pursuits. I used to do it with Fanny but now am more often forced to do it alone. Indeed Fanny was down at Cobbler's End helping her new close acquaintances trim their own bushes. Father, again, departed for Netherton to collect his new dog that has now been weaned. He carried with him my reply to Mr Ashforth entreating him to come.

Monday 28th November 1807

Dear Diary,
Two epistles of note today. The first bore the news that Mr Ashforth is still to come but that he has been detained. It seems that while dismounting in Netherton last week he was caught by the Goolies and they insisted that he partake of their hospitality as they are good friends of his Family. I have never heard of these Goolies but apparently they are people of no little fortune. So Mr Ashforth has been dragged away from me by the Goolies. I cannot wait for him to come. I long to hear his tales of Canada and how he ate beaver whilst there. The second epistle is good news indeed and bore news of one of Mr Pratt's balls. He is to hold one on December 7th and we are invited. What joy! Mrs Crutchlow is making what she calls 'bangers' for dinner. I must confess there is nothing I like more than a hot sausage inside me on a cold evening.

Saturday 24th November 1807

Dear Diary,
It was a damp and miserable day but I desired solitude so dressed warmly and took myself down to the lake to fish. I had just got my tackle out and was fiddling with my rod when I was aware of eyes upon me. I turned and espied a beautiful vixen watching me from the path. Her sleek, amber coat was wet and shining and I noticed she was breathing heavily. For the briefest of moments we gazed into each others eyes and then she was gone. Almost immediately after, I heard the hounds approaching. Quickly, I removed my boots and filled them with water and proceeded to douse the path with water back and forth as far as I could in the little time I had before the hounds arrived. They were still swarming the path searching for the scent when the first horseman arrived. I feigned ignorance when he asked if I had seen anything of a fox. He remarked upon the stoutness of my rod and he was tempted to dismount and handle it for himself. I returned the favour by complimenting him on his lovely mount. He said he had also been lucky enough to ride her mother. At that moment the hounds, once more picked up the scent and took off. He bad farewell and continued after and was followed by several other riders on less attractive steeds. My appetite for fishing had gone and I restowed my tackle and returned home.
I received the good tidings from the stable lad this eve that the hunt had returned without a kill. I could have embraced him heartily had he not been shovelling manure.

Friday 23rd November 1807

Dear Diary,
The plot is revealed. When I heard the barouche draw up just before lunch I thought that Mr Ashforth had finally come, but no. The carriage brought Mrs Norris' niece, Miss Pott. I assumed that her visit was out of concern for her Aunt's health. I have been a fool. I should have realised when Miss Pott was seated beside me at lunch the manipulation that was afoot. It was not until I was requested to escort Miss Pott on a tour of the grounds , that I finally realised the extent of the plot. I am sure Fanny knew nought of what Mother and Mrs Norris had planned. I am convinced Mrs Norris is in good health and is only here to oversee the match making. Miss Pott is agreeable and without a doubt, also, a pawn in this game. I am aware that she holds me in a higher esteem than I at present feel for her but I enjoyed her company though forced as it was. We talked balls and I was astonished at her experience of balls for someone so young. When she departed I was happy only in that Mrs Norris departed with her and her smelly beast also. I have remained taciturn, this evening, despite enquiring looks from my Mother and retired fairly early to my chamber. I am sure I have not seen the last of Miss Honey Pott.

Thursday 22nd November 1807

Dear Diary,
Such a miserable day. Mrs Norris and her foul fiend were omnipresent. She seems to be in good health when sat chatting with Mother but strangely ails whenever I appear. Fanny went to call upon the ladies at Cobbler's End and I heard the scratching of Jane's quill coming from her room. Father asked if I wanted to go shoot pheasant but I suspect I would have been more a human gun dog than hunting companion. I feel in fairly low spirits this evening and have retired to bed early. I feel something is afoot. Let us see what tomorrow brings.

Wednesday 21st November 1807

Dear Diary,
I awoke in an excited state even before Farmer Clamp's cock was able to intrude upon my sleep. I was out and upon Cobbler's Knob before the sun rose. Sadly it was too cloudy and dawn came behind the grey blanket of the sky. I returned to The Grange refreshed and set upon Mrs Crutchlow's eggs with relish. She makes a tasty relish. I spent the morning down at the Chapel as the Pastor kindly allows me to play upon his organ. Farmer Clamp's daughter, Titty arrived while I was struggling with Paul Gerhardt's 'Sacred Head'. She made a beautiful arrangement with Holly and Rhododendron by the pulpit then asked if she could sit awhile and eavesdrop upon my rehearsal. I invited her to sit beside me and assist in turning the pages but she flushed and declined.
I returned home at noon and was met by Mrs Norris's awful snub nosed rodent as it raced across the lawn to bark at my feet. She was unwell and Mother had offered her comfort and company while she recovers. Doctor Proctor came in the afternoon. I hope he was able to quicken her recovery but I would not be surprised if his leeches had refused to bite. At dinner this evening I accidentally trod on the putrid pug as it gambolled greedily beneath the dining table hoping for titbits. I cannot deny I found it difficult to contain my smile at its slight misfortune. Indeed, I think it has been a good day.

Tuesday 20th November 1807

Dear Diary,
I am concerned about Mr Ashforth. I have heard nothing since his last epistle in which he stated his intention to call upon us. What can be detaining him? Every time I hear the approach of a barouche my heart leaps with excitement but then shattered by disappointment when it is not he. Today, it was Fanny's turn to be visited upon by a prospective suitor, a Mr Pratt. I had not heard him arrive and came upon him in the drawing room nonchalantly stroking Fanny's pussy. He has no chin! When he had gone I implored, dear Fanny, to only encourage those who possessed chin's at least. She replied that he had boasted of his balls and said that she had heard rumours that recently one had been magnificent. I cannot deny my interest was peeked at this news. Maybe if Fanny continues to flutter her eyelashes we will get to experience Mr Pratt's balls.

Sunday 18th November 1807

Dear Diary,
In Chapel today, there was a noticeable faltering in the robust manner with which the congregation normally approaches the hymns and in particular during the second verse of "Onward Christian Soldiers". A great majority of the gathered had noticed the late arrival of Miss Lott and Miss Noring, our recently arrived new neighbours at Cobbler's End, as they slipped into a back pew. The Pastor's sermon was only remarkable in that it was more tedious than usual and seemed to last twice as long. Fanny and I excused ourselves from the usual post service gossiping and hurried up the lane after the ladies to make their acquaintance. We were quite out of breath by the time we caught up with them for, indeed, their pace was brisk and their strides long for gentlewomen. Beneath the bare branches of an oak tree we introduced ourselves and were happy to make the acquaintance of Miss Mona Lott and Miss Constance Noring. I enquired as to how they were finding Cobbler's End and they replied that it was comfortable and accommodating. We made polite small talk for some moments and were laughing at the Pastor's spiritless sermon when I blurted out that I had heard they were thespians. There was a sudden uncomfortable silence and the two ladies exchanged a pained glance. I felt that I had somehow offended them but knew not how. It was somewhat fortuitous that at that moment a squirrel ran up my leg, mistaking my tan breeches for a stout sapling, no doubt, in search of nuts. (The only trouble with this country living is that nature is abundant hereabouts and will insist upon encroaching upon my person.). The good ladies both dissolved into fits of laughter as I hopped about trying to rid myself of the little beast. All awkwardness seemed forgotten and we parted in good humour with the ladies inviting Fanny to call upon them to tickle their ivories.
I have such an array of scratches upon my inner thigh I cannot tell you. I pray that they do not become infected. Well that is all of note for today, and now I must away for I have need of mastication.

Thursday 15th November 1807

Dear Diary,
I have not been neglecting you, nay nay, no no, it is just that the past few days have been so dull and uneventful that I felt it best not to bother you with their inane dullness. There was a monstrous eight -legged beast in the lavatory the other morning which made me feel faint with the horror of it but my dear Fanny set her pet cat, Tuppence upon it. Today I have heard news of our new neighbours at Cobbler's End. The rumour was that it was taken by two sisters but it seems the two gentlewomen are not related at all. While walking the woodland paths today I was privee to a conversation between Doctor Proctor and the Parson, though they were unaware of my presence. The ladies are to arrive at the weekend and then leaning ever closer to the Parson I am sure Doctor Proctor said that he believed them to be thespians. I feel I shall have to call upon them when they are comfortably settled and make their acquaintance.

Monday 12th November 1807

Dear Diary,
Such a frost, there was this morning. I dressed in haste and ventured out and into the woods for a brisk and refreshing walk. I was grateful on my return to come upon Jane seated by the brook and she allowed me to warm my chilled hands in her muff. As we approached the Grange, we espied Mr Scrote, a determined suitor of Jane's, being lifted from his carriage. We could hear the scrape of his wooden leg as he limped towards the front door. When he dropped his ear trumpet on the first step, Jane lifted her skirts and ran back into the woods. It was left to me to convey her apologies to Mr Scrote. He understood what I was trying to say at the third attempt and I helped him back to his carriage. Disaster was averted by his vigilant coachman when the horse was startled by Mr Scrote breaking wind as I pushed him up the last step. The carriage jolted and Mr Scrote fell forward onto the carriage floor. I hastily shut the door and winked the coachman off. I am optimistic that the morrow shall be less fraught and more fragrant.

Sunday 11th November 1807

Dear Diary,
I am returned from Manchesterford and can scarce sit down after such hard riding but my dear Fanny has brought me an embroidered cushion and I am grateful of it's comfort.
What a different world is that of, my old friend, Mr Griffiths! I arrived at Dean Court yesterday afternoon and was shown into his town house by his butler. I waited for some moments in the lobby before, his butler informed me that I should go on up to his rooms. I ventured into his bedchamber but again there was no sign of my dear friend. It was then that I became aware of tittering coming from the closet and sure enough Mr Griffiths burst out crying " I cannot stay in the closet a moment longer!" We embraced for some time and then went off into the town for refreshment and amusement. Such a vast array of dishes are available to wealthy townsfolk and we did enjoy a variety of nibbles before venturing to the theatre, a joy I miss residing at Thrushcock Grange.
Mr Griffiths is well acquainted with thespians and I, too, love to be in the company of thespians. I doubt my parents or my dear sisters would have enjoyed the spectacle to which I was party but there were some very poignant ditties. The gentlemen on the stage carried themselves with deportment despite the lack of costume, indeed if any! Mr Griffiths, intuitively, noted my surprise and said that obviously the budget had not been sufficient to cover costume acquisition and yet, strangely, it did not detract from the evening. The many ladies in the audience seemed very appreciative but none more so than Mr Griffiths. Back at Dean Court I spent a restless night and had the strangest dream. I dreamt I was walking by an unfamiliar lake, with Mr Griffiths, in deep conversation when he suddenly stopped, turned and produced from within his tunic, the largest shuttlecock I had ever seen. He enquired if I wanted to play with it. I was somewhat taken aback by its size and the manner of its revealment that I stepped back, knocking my sister's acquaintance, Mr Darcy, back into the lake from which he had emerged in his wet, white shirt. I awoke with Palpitations and screamed "Get out of my bed, Palpitations! You butle too far!"
It is good to be home once more and nothing seems more cosy and welcoming than one's own bed and surroundings. I must make enquiries regarding thespians locally; I should very much like to meet them.

Saturday 10th November 1807

Dear Diary,
An unexpected visit by Mrs Norris and her awful pug, yesterday has left me quite faint with anxiety. Her nasty snub-nosed beast disappeared for most of the afternoon, which caused her the most awful distress. Never was there such a wailing to be heard, well not since the death of Old Tom, and recalling it now I believe the Pastor to be a much more accomplished wailer than Mrs Norris. I digress. That nasty, smelly bag of slaver was eventually found down in the larder licking at one of Mrs Crutchlow's old cheeses. But that is not the end of this sorry tale, Oh no! Imagine my horror when I discovered in the eve that the beast had been rooting, unbeknownst to me, in my private places and had removed my diary from its resting place. I was quite frantic with worry and cursed the animal with words I dare not write down here. Thankfully, I recovered it this morning behind my water closet and it was still moist with the fiend's juices. I cannot deny I dreamt last night of the beast meeting its ends in similar circumstances to my Father's dear dog but awoke with alarm, when on close examination it appeared to have the grinning face of Mrs Norris as it lay prostrate in the dying fern.
Today, I am to Manchesterford, to visit my old friend Mr Griffiths, but shall return on the morrow. Adieu.

Thursday 8th November 1807

Dear Diary,
I was somewhat indisposed yesterday and scarcely rose from my bed. I suspect I caught a chill on my recent ride atop Cobbler's Knob. Fanny was all for calling Doctor Proctor but the weather was terribly inclement and I felt a day in bed would suffice. I still feel weak and just this little exertion is causing my wrist great distress. Yet again today, we have been greatly troubled by wind. How my casement has rattled. It would have to be a stout leaf that remains upon its bough this very day. I must away...I hear our housekeeper, Mrs Crutchlow, approach with her jugs to bring me succour.

Tuesday 6th November 1807

Dear Diary,
Awakened as usual by Farmer Clamp's cock. I often dream of grasping its head and squeezing and shaking it until it splutters but I scarce think I would be able to do it should the opportunity arise. I contemplated discussing my diary with my sister Jane at breakfast but refrained on this occasion as her head was buried in a book and rarely did her eyes leave its ivory pages as she forked her eggs. Father announced he was off to Netherton to see a man about a dog. Why do we need another dog? I am not a dog lover. They smell somewhat and have repulsive habits. Father's last canine companion sadly died in a hunting accident last July at the hands of the ill-sighted Pastor who mistook Old Tom for a rampant badger. It would have been understandable had Old Tom been black and white but he was an Irish Setter.
I received an epistle from my good friend Mr Ashforth. He may call on me here at Thrushcock Grange at his earliest convenience. I feel quite elated at this news.

Monday 5th November 1807

Dear Diary,
I am all of a quiver. I have just, this moment, returned from a brisk ride upon Cobbler's Knob and have scarce had time to adjust the seat of my breeches, and yet I am compelled to set to and commence this diary I have, so long, postponed. T'was only yesterday, whilst plaiting the hair of my dear Fanny, beneath the seclusion of the willow down by the river, that I felt a stirring deep down. Oh, how we screamed when we discovered I was perched upon the entrance to the home of a water vole which was vigorously trying to exit. Without a care for anything or anyone I hurled my poor Fanny forward. How fortuitous that she can swim! She emerged dripping wet and once recovered we both laughed and she remarked how it would have been a fine tale for my diary if only I had begun it. I pondered her words and thought how fine Fanny looked, even wet and dripping. But it was just now upon the Knob, that it came to me! No more shall I dilly dally! No more shall I procrastinate! And so I have hurried home to begin at once, though I did venture into the lavatory for a moments relief, and here I am. I very much doubt I shall be able to prevail upon you daily but I shall endeavour to offer up my thoughts and inner most feelings and tell, oft ,of occurrences here at Thrushcock Grange and of my acquaintances. I hope that it will not be all balls. Indeed , I doubt that very much. Why does no one hold balls anymore? How I long for balls! I fear I shall have to hold balls of my own.