13 January, in the year of our Lord 2021
Up, the day grey, and a fine drizzle all the time with rain, which hath come into the chimney stack and made a mark on the ceiling, by my stairs, so by Messenger to the fellow who worked on the roof these several yeares since, Mr. M. Brookewell, who by return says he will come in a week. Had the excellent idea after breakfast that I should call upon others to visit in order to provide Conversation, on a pretext of reparing the fabric of the house, this Lock Up v3.0 being tediose to an extreme and greater than previous. This day is a half hour longer than the shortest.
15 January, in the year of our Lord 2021
News from my father, that they have been inoculcated with the vaxine, my mother and he, for which I give thanks to God. The sun higher a little today, and there came a little warmth in the weather, with sun shine, so cleared the garden of some dead and brown leaves, though they were also cold and wet, and fill’d a wheelybin with them.
17 January, in the year of our Lord 2021
Lord’s Day. Last night rescued the cat of Mr. R. Owen, which had stuck up a tree, with the assitence of a neighbore, Spencer, and his torch and laddyrs. Him down by the scruff (which is the cat, not Spencer), looked at me as if to say, ‘What took you so long?’. This morning at 11 a-clock comes Barry the paynter, and I with him discoursing merrily, though have ended up agreeing to have painted the little room I use for my ablutions, and the room beside it wherein sits the ice cabinet, which is grubby, in Morning Light. I consider to have another Portraite painted of myself, like my wife had done with Mr. Hayls, but I think Barry is more a Duluxe man. Before supper, met with others on a magick screen for the Book Club, where talked of The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant, a treatise on Old Testament Obstetricks which I shall not read again.
19 January, in the year of our Lord 2021
Yesterday came Mr. Simon Fisher all the way from from Liverpuddle to repair a work Top in my kitchen, which crack’d several years since when the oven stayed lit from supper till morning; he discoursing his opinions on the Covey, which contayned the most good matter on the Subject I heared in a long while, for he had it in November and lived. After supper, the Messenger from my father telling me that a mayde who attends my mother hath an grey parrotte from Africka which are well known as talkers, and I read better than mangrove parrottes who do not learn to speak even with turpentine suppositorys, which she lets free in her house, and it seems that one of the bird’s favourite sayings is, “Hello, hello, hello! Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye! F— off, f— off, f— off!”.
21 January, in the year of our Lord 2021
Today I set to write my Journall for the week, but unable to think of more than meagre content, for each day hath little to distinguish it from another. Yesterday, up betimes, and before breakfasted comes Davy to see to my radiators, two being cold, though the house is warmer than the New Year when my tank of oyl emptied and the boyler did not work — which was the worst time for it happening, it being cold with some snow and Mr. M. Jones could not leave his house. At night there was a great storm. In the gazette today that yesterday the Plymouth Colony sweared in its new Leader and the former left without any courtesie, to which I can only echo the words of the parrotte.