Dearest Diary,
Yesterday, I returned home again from our visit to the coast and slept quite well in Mother and Father's estate. Prior to the journey, however, I happened upon a gentleman who was deeply engrossed in the sport of fishing as he was standing waist deep in the water while casting his rod. As I approached the docks, I wondered if the gentleman might elect to engage in conversation as we were clearly the only two beings in a rather large open beach. He did not. In fact, I am uncertain whether he even noticed I had come or that I stood for quite some time admiring the fish and the waters. Still not a single word was spoken. After some time had passed, I took my leave and returned to the carriage. He was not worth the idle silence.
Today as I ventured out in the company of a friend, we were to conduct ourselves in sport but instead found ourselves dining on pie and in garrulous conversation. So much so that I was nearly absent for the week's opera production. In fact, because I had stayed so long in my friend's company, I was forced to change from the less formal attire one dons for sport into something more appropriate for an opera, in the safe, yet somewhat less modest dressing facility as my phaeton. Imagine guiding four hourses whilst simultaneously tying a corset. It might be seen as a sort of rite of passage in a young lady's life, perhaps? I am just curious enough to know how many have tried such a feat? And how many were successful? I am convinced there were a few carriages who may have discovered my daring attempt, but I was most discreet in the ordeal, I assure you. I only incurred a few curious glances.
And although I had promised a few times last week, I am determined that I shall not be detained from my pilgrimage to the schoolhouse on the morrow...
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