Sunday, 6 March.
It is pleasant to see the sun gain strength daily, with every sort of flower appearing, almond-blossoms in full swing, cherry-blossoms hard at it and pear-blossoms making a beginning.
Monday, 7 March.
Departure of [the married Yorkshire visitors].
“Thank God, they’re gone!” the survivor is heard to say.
Arrival of the survivor’s women-folk. He sees them to their rooms and comes down to gloat over some woman. When his wife returns to the hall:
“Hullo, Helen!” he says. “Are ye dahn olready?” And repeats the bright question: “Hullo, Helen! Are ye dahn olready?”
What a people, the men of Yorkshire!...
Wednesday, 9 March.
I begin a collodial sulphur treatment ... for that picturesque right leg of mine. Irving’s left leg was a poem (Oscar Wilde); my right leg is a money-box, adorned with three patches the size of a shilling, a sixpence and a groat, all very nice and silvery. I asked [the doctor] whether it was leprosy or dropsy. He said it was soriasis, scoriasis, scloriasis: I don’t know which and I don’t care.