'A very snowy morning. It cleared up however for a little while but we did not walk. We sent for our letters by Fletcher and for some writing paper etc. He brought us word there were none. This was strange for I depended on Mary. While I was writing out the poem, as we hope for a final writing, a letter was brought me by John Dawson's daughter, the letter written at Eusemere. I paid Wm. Jackson's bill by John Fisher, sent off a letter to Montagu by Fletcher. After Molly went we read the first part of the poem and were delighted with it, but Wm. afterwards got to some ugly place, and went to bed tired out. A wild, moonlight night.'
Dorothy Wordsworth, The Grasmere Journal.
Hardly the most exciting day of her life but it gives a flavour. I bought this book of extracts
at the market this morning for a pound. The cover price is an unbelievable £24.95, so I was pleased. No other books to be had. Now is my chance to recommend yet again Sue Limb's wonderful The Wordsmiths at Gorsemere. There's a book and the Radio 4 series is sometimes repeated on Radio 7.
It was nice to be able to buy purple sprouting again. My extravagance at this time of year is Yorkshire rhubarb, which you can't get at the market. Crumble tonight.
In knitting news, having finished half a pair of socks (why is it so hard to start the second one?) and the back of my Rowan jacket, I have started as a weekend project a stashbuster scarf. This will be quite bizarre.