Sunday, 21 Feburary 1873

Went out walking in the countryside today-a beautiful day-sun, blue sky, birds tweeting, and the smell of burning cottages as peasants were thrown off their land. A shame, for their grubby faces really did add to the scenery. I came across a poor old man, leaning on a gate.

"Penny for the poor?" he said,
I considered
"I'll give you a kick" I offered
He declined my offer, (ungratfully!), and I walked on.

I was just on the edge of a scary dark creepy wood, when a carriage suddenly pulled up beside me, and outstepped a man I had feared all my life I would have to meet! No, not a welshman, but my uncle, The Count of Morrisons! He was even more evil looking than my parents had described-his moustache curled evily, his eyes were cold and full of evil, and he had a pet rat with a wooden leg perched on his shoulder. He was resting his foot on a small child, who was crying. It appeared that my uncle was not only using him as a footstool, he was also eating the boys sweets. Oh, so evil.

"so" said my uncle, laughing evily. This made it hard to understand what he was saying, so the small boy wrote it down on a slate as well.
"Well, well, well, we meet again!" He laughed/dictated
"Listen, wicked uncle, you have no place here! If you dare to try and steal my huge fortune, i'll have no choice but to slap you with a wet fish!"

"hmmm, then I shall have to find another way to get my hands on your enourmous assets!"
"Thats not a eumphemism, is it?"
"No!.....and I dont know what that means anyway"

And with that, off he drove, the small boy running ahead. Pulling the carriage. With his teeth.

So! This is the way he wants to play it! He wont be stealing my fortune, thats for sure! No, I must save my money, to give to Lord Primark when I marry him. There are two people in this world who will never be in charge of my money-my evil uncle-and me.

Home to bed now, dear reader-I must get at least 22 hours of beauty sleep a day