28th of November

Yawn. A big, full, nasty yawn. Could the days possibly be any more boring than those I have to endure now? There really isn't much to do, is there? The smoking room full of the same old chaps as yesterday, and with no new news do discuss. The food getting a tad bit more.... tasteless, ordinary, boring each days that pass. The musicians seem to only know a few repertoires, and repeat and repeat and repeat each evening.

I might just die of boredom. The lucky thing is, the ladies is starting to get restless as well. Big plus. Makes my job a little bit easier. Heck, I can't amuse myself in much other ways anyway. I've already read out my books, the gentlemen seem more and more hesitant to play cards with me - I can't be blamed for being talented now, can I? And I want the money, my pocket's have gotten quite a lot emptier than I'm comfortable with.

At least, I've gotten used to the constant moving floors. Thank the God, do I hate to make a fool of myself! Quite embarrassing wobbling around like a new born horse not used to his own legs. And the throwing up; gosh! I shudder just thinking of it. Ugh.

And ever after falling into Miss Wright's lap the other day, blessed be the ocean right then, and she smelled lovely!, her father seem to want to smack me with his walking stick every time he sees me. A harmless mistake, and her Papa reacts so, strongly. Poor, little me. Getting in trouble for nothing! Tsk.

But dear Diary, can't we be near soon? I'm sick of this!