In retrospect

12 July, in the year of our Lord 2020

A raretie, which is to say a day pleasant for its weather, for this last week has provided us of a succession of dark clouds, and with them a continuous rain and a wind to flatten my plants and flowers and cold to chill the out sides such as I do not remember in July in any recent year. At dinner with Mr. M. Jones and Mr. R. Owen, with meat, vegetables to our taste and savoury victuals, this from the Whitefort Arms, on White fort street, a public house at some little distance, it being Sunday lunch, this being the Lord’s day; they obliging of a ‘Take Awaye’ service, though it is a ‘Bring To’, and as fine almost as to dine within their premises, which we cannot; for Mr. Jones a beef brisket and Mr. Owen a chicken, well-roasted, and chicken roasted and with herbs and a decent gravey also for my plate, and wine to sup with it; and we having discourse of the tally of the plague and its course, and of those which we know with it, which is very few, and of divers matters of a pleasanter distinction. After, the weather coming unexpected bright, out a-doors and did sit in the garden, the first such time for many days, and as merry and carefree for it as I ever was with these four months. By and by I to thinking to create a new flower bed, for there is one that is mighty fine and joys me but yet it cannot be seen from the windows for the position of a tree which is of pleasant proportion and ever green, but it has grown to a prodigious heyght, which was a present from my mother, as were all the plants that have proved a problem in my garden. At the end of the garden is a fruit tree I had cut root suckers from the base of to vigour it, and Lord, to see that for the first time it bears fruit, which are little like a tiny apple but with a fuzz which I did never see on an apple in my entire life, so they may be an apricot, and Mr. Owen and Mr. Jones nod sagely being of the same opinion each himselfe. After supper to reading of my book, which was writ in English, only I have it in Spanish, which I bought it for since I suppos’d it would help me best the tongue, but in three years since I bought it less than one-eighth of it read before I set it aside these two years, at least; but it is to my great content that now I pick it up again I read it a-fresh and it is more easy, and I find it engaging and easyer for me to read than use to be the case, its title being (in the Spanish) El curioso incidente del perro a medianoche, and God willing I shall finish it. Late at 1 a’clock did see the comette in the north which was a fine sight it being many years since one last paid a visit in the sky, and after, did make some small jottings for the reason of writing my Journalle at a later time for I am without my normal means of writing it, which are in need of repair, which they have gone for. And so to bed.