I dare say this 'blogging' that Theo has gotten me into is quite scandalous. I believe he is using me and my life experience as entertainment... of course he can't read, and everyone knows a lady who reads aloud isn't worth her weight in butter, so I am unaware of how he will become informed of my exploits. *Bored sigh* And I shan't care any more about it.

A very interesting thing happened to me on the way home from the Apothecary this evening, The reason for the trip is frankly none of your concern, but I believe I shall share the rest of the experience with you. As I walked along, minding my own business, this young man came bolting out of the alley carrying 3 watermelons screaming about how he would never eat watermelon again! He then, with all his little might, threw the watermelons on the ground! Yes! He threw them on the ground! Yelling about not being apart of the 'system'... I was frightened of course, I mean what if the watermelon residue ended up on my slippers? Or stained my frock?! I would have to have the little cretin tarred and feathered, and I just didn't have time to boil tar today. Luckily after a self reprisal I deduced I was indeed residue free, the child shall live yet another day. Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked, I grabbed the youth by the collar and asked him what in tarnation he was throwing such a fit about? In broad daylight no less! He then told me his name was Brom, and that his mother had started taking up with the local watermelon vendor, and since they were peasants, they couldn't afford anything other than their daily bread and milk, so they ate watermelon his mothers man friend couldn't sell at the end of the day. His mother has apparently gotten quite creative in her culinary skills with the large fruit. Watermelon pancakes, watermelon grits, watermelon stew, watermelon cakes, watermelon jerky, watermelon chops, watermelon water... You surely grasp the gist of his dilemma. So I began to feel a stirring of emotion deep in my bosom... I believe they call this feeling 'sympathy'... It felt very unpleasant, I rather hope I never feel it again. So back to Brom. I patted his head and told him that perhaps he could be of some help in my fathers kitchen, and of course be able to eat his meals there on the days he helped. I know, I can scarce believe the depth of my generosity myself, I am such a humble giver, people should acknowledge this. So he was so overcome with joy that he accosted me with a hug, ick, and practically oozed happiness.... Peasants... uncouth creatures. It was then I felt a damp feeling on my back... and realized the little street beggar had gotten watermelon juice all over my new frock! So I duffed him across the head with my pocket book and told him to forget me ever helping him! It also turned out I do indeed have time to biol tar today...

I am far to exhausted to say much more. I barely had the strength to let my ladies maid undress me, bathe me, feed me, and brush my hair. I must now retire.