It is awfully discouraging to see Colin’s carriage come and go from Bree’s house. Why didn’t I think of it – piano lessons? I shake my head in disgust. As I read through the poetry I’ve written over the last week I see – it is pure drivel. My crush, or whatever it is, fades and these words of devotion and love now appear silly.

I break out another bottle of port (so what if it’s only 5:00PM) and try to sort out my feelings. Most definitely, I’m depressed. I miss my friends from London – and the ladies who were always available, anxious to be near the poets and writers. Yes, I miss that a lot.

I am now of the opinion that too much fresh air is simply bad for inspiration. Very bad, indeed. And if I don’t get some human contact soon, I believe I will simply go mad. I decide to head off to that little Inn – the Cross and Cowl. Perhaps that’s just the thing to clear my head.