We arrived today at the new house and have settled in. Hannah has been out on an expedition and has not yet unpacked her clothes and toys, but the kitchen, dining room and parlour are all in readiness.
I have run out of black ink and my pen writes very ill, but I shall endeavour to give an accurate account of our lives here, albeit in red ink. At present, it looks as though murder has been committed in my journal.
Since unpacking my own belongings, I have prepared my stock and set it to cookand made dough, currently on its second rising, from which I shall presently make bread. Oh how I envy those fortunate enough to keep a cook. I should like to read or write the letter I have promised to my nephew, who languishes on his sick bed after a most terrible accident. Instead, the joint is roasting and I must go and prepare vegetables.
Later...the joint is cooked, the Yorkshire pudding is in the oven and the vegetables are cooking. All I lack is Hannah. How late she is in coming home.
Hannah finally arrived at half past eight, having dined with her aunt. We are now enjoying a supper of grilled cheese on toast, while the water heats for our basins. We drink a cup of hot cocoa and take our jug ofwater to my bedroom where we wash and retire for the night.
Saturday's Menu:
Roast lamb served with mint jelly, mashed potato, carrots and Yorkshire pudding
Supper: Grilled cheese on toast, cocoa
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