[ooc: Rescued from the cache, unfortunately the most recent entries couldn't be found
]
[OOC: This is going to be scandalous and full of libellous comments, but please bear in mind that it's meant to be a private journal and it's all in fun!]
I think it is high time that I started to keep a journal. Apart from helping me to remember things, it will also be an intimate record of my life, which I am sure will be of great interest to historians as well as ordinary people, after I am gone.
Thursday:
Last night I attended the betrothal party of some merchant, a Mr Rashidat I believe, and his lady. Well I say "lady" in the loosest possible terms, as the female in question is a very impertinent and thrusting sort of person, with no breeding or refinement. I believe she is called Phaedra Quaintly or some such outlandish name, and fancies herself a lady. What a shame she could not treat a guest such as myself with even the basic modicum of courtesy. She was extremely rude and made some very hurtful remarks about my status.
It is obvious that this marriage is doomed even before the ceremony, as the prospective bridegroom took refuge in copious amounts of alcohol and became quite disgustingly drunk; obviously in a vain attempt to blot out the less than dulcet tones of his vulgar fiancee.
I had gone along with Mr Faust, who even if he is only a merchant, at least has some manners, and had taken along an engagement gift of a pair of very fine gold candlesticks. But after Miss Quaintly's shocking display of rudeness, I took them away with me again. Such a gift would obviously be wasted on the likes of her. She would most likely have them melted down to make some hideous cherub ornaments or something equally common.
Still no word from that fat fool Minoc. He is obviously no gentleman. I am very hurt that he invited me to visit his estate and has sent not a single word since. I am still living in very cramped conditions at Beaufort, with not another person of nobility for miles around. If stupid Papa had not disowned me after that unfortunate business with Raleigh, I would return home to Britain; but it seems that I am doomed to be a houseguest for the forseeable future. I believe Cove is still single, but his estate is little more than a village in the middle of nowhere. What have I done to deserve such a miserable life? I'm sure I don't know.