My dear William gave me this beautiful leather diary for Christmas this year. I have never been able to keep a diary going even as far as February in the past but this year I'm feeling determined. Perhaps I will be able to vent my frustrations into it rather than at poor W, I'm sure he will feel much relief if that becomes the case.
Mrs Cox came in to do her usual ironing this morning. She really is a godsend and I don't know how the vicarage would function if the cleaning and ironing ever became too much for her. She brought Charlie with her as Margaret was busy. He is a delightful little boy and happily played in a big box of straw (left over from lining the manger in church) for hours while Mrs Cox ironed. She mentioned that Margaret wasn't looking well when she left this morning and I'm very much hoping that it is not what I suspect. The village has been very forgiving of her lapse but I'm not sure how they will take another. I suppose there's not much point in worrying when there may be nothing to worry about.
I must remember to call on Mrs Frobisher and Mr and Mrs Grant in the next couple of days.
My garden is looking rather morose at the moment. After all the autumnal clearing and trimming back, it all looks rather weary and dead right now. I must dig out my huge gardener's bible and plan my planting for the spring. I'm probably behind already, but I can dream of spring days as I sit by the fire.
Julia rang me this evening to wish us a happy new year and we reminisced about old times. It was good to catch up with her. We don't manage to meet enough and I resolve to try and change that in the coming year.
From the snoring from W beside me, I conclude that it's time to put my diary to bed and get some sleep.
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