7 June, in the year of our Lord 2020
Up, the day cold and unforgiving grey. I understand not this weather, for a week ago so hot that I did want the very air conditioned against it, but four or five days after, hale twice and the chill with a wind factor and the rest of the day, rain. It is said that it is due to a Stream so high in the sky that it cannot be seen, which moves the clouds and fills them with water and then sends wind, and weather with it, from places so bitter the rivers melt only after midsummer, such as Edinborough which is so cold I have heard it called the Reykjavik of the south, and from the countie of Durham where the sun is so weak they must ride thirty miles to see if their eyes work. If it continues I think we shall have a Frost Fair on the river at the summer Solstice and it will be the earliest since records began.
Yesterday to the Apothecary where two at a time which is the new normal, the rest a sorrie tail outside, soaked, be-masked and cold. He gives me a supply of physick that I take each morning, and each is like a little lentil that is a corrective for two new Humours they have discovered, which are Good cholsterole and Bad cholsterole. I am made to understand that the Good is a Necessitie but the Bad blocks the vessels of the Circulation like lard in a sewer, and mine needs statting to make it Good. I am pleased tho’, for this latest remedie is better than the last which did make my limbs ache and stopped me walking up a hill. I also having pain from one heel, where the Skin crack’d and with a split, so purchased a balm, which I applied at home and was contented for the quick relief from it. I read it is composed in one Tenth part by weight of Urea, so I think to make my own by putting my water that I pass in trays and they in the sun, and when dried to mix what is left with yoghurt, tallow, butter and boar’s grease in equal parts into an unguent. I think it will be very fine and I will try it when the sun comes back, and if it does not I will dry it in the oven.
By and by Mr. M. Jones to supper, where much merrie discourse, I cooking a stew of lentilles and eggplant, which was rich enough we did not miss the meat. The evening better than three days ago when I to him, where at supper I with the Wheeze so bad I had cause to come home earlie to partake of my inbreathers, which helped though it took an hour, and then slept well without cough, phlegm or spittle.
After supper, it wonderfullie calm and the garden at peace with no wind not even to disturb the smallest twigs, and of all of the times of year my favorite is these six weeks around the longest day, and tonight it light so late at a half past ten I could almost read a book, and the dusk the obverse of the dawn, it cool and the sky clear and streaked with crimson, and two bats flitting and the sound of an owl in the graveyard. And so to bed.