Dearest Diary, Day eighteen:
Cavendish green and starting to smell.
His man won't go near him, obliging Yours Truly to send Cotter to
attend his needs, delaying my bath. Rum do.
This evening, whilst bathing, Cotter
remarked that the old Bates's have fetched up beneath the cattle
bridge on the coach-road to St. Mary Intestine. Will have Constable
Hubble move them along in the morning.
Had Wheeler drive the Austin to the
Pinkerton-Ffyffe's for a few rubbers.
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