Dearest Diary,
This morning I had the good fortune to breakfast at Ashford. I must admit it was not the most restful sleep I have endured, however I did wake with the faintest notion that the estate in its entirety belonged to me. That was fulfilling enough. And this evening I made the first of many payments I shall make to the mortgage company.
Lady Pigeon continues to strive for comfort at the new estate, however she very rarely left my side. I have urged her to take heart as she will not be abandoned at Granada. She doesn't seem to comprehend my speeches. It is a great pity that her nerves trouble her so.
This evening marked the beginning of a long tradition of sport to take place right in the heart of London. I look forward to the news as it travels from town. I am not acquainted with many of the competitors by name, but I do hold a certain pride in my own countrymen and hope for victorious outcomes on their behalf. The first of such reports, I fear, must wait until the morrow.
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