Dear reader,
What a turn up for the books. A mysterious cloaked man leapt over the gardan wall last night. He had flaming eyes and a scary sword, and warned me I would soon meet my death under suspicious circumstances. He was WELL flirting with me! My new corset is obvious working! It has a built in kidney reducers.
Went into town to do some shopping yesterday. Bought lots of jam. Mainly beetroot. I heard it was Lord Primark's favourite flavour, and am thinking of making him a beetroot banquet. Beetroot pie, Beetroot icecream, Beetroot squeezy cheese. I certinely know the way to a mans heart. I practised kissing my hairbrush for 8 hours yesterday, so that when I become Lady Primark, I will be prepared for tickly moustacheness.
A letter from my estranged Uncle, the Count of Morrisons (he owns a large chain of food emporiums) arrived this morning. It was marked "muahahahaha!". I fear he could soon come back to Britain and lock me in an attic. But that may work out well, it shall be fine practise for when I am married.
I shall retire now, dear reader. One of the squirrels from the garden seems to be following me. Or perhaps I've just gone mad from all the opium I consume...
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