My eyes are like pricked sloes this morning for I simply could not put the diary down last night, and with excitement slept so little I had to get up at 5 a.m. although deathly tired.

But I simply must give you the flavour of it, since I realize it would take me a week's solid typing at the rate of 4 hours a day to transcribe it fully; and frankly, I am not sure that as a whole it would be worth it because although there are pithy comments, in essence it is a recital of events and lists of names. I wonder if the young man Caroline Sara Elizabeth called "Boiled Rabbit" had an inkling of it? He was bad at tennis certainly, but why the "boiled" I don't know, except I suppose he was red of face.

So the opening, with its slight touch of artificiality which soon gives way to what I suppose was Bull down-to-earthness. I must mention first that the early entries run together from line to line under the dates. Then, when the rush of festivities is over, she (I do not know what to call her and if you can suggest how and why her three Christian names might have made "Elsie" of her, we would be grateful, for otherwise "Elsie" never existed, yet was supposed to have been one of the four sisters [who saw] the nun apparition of July 1900) takes more trouble.

On the fly-leaf of the ordinary lined and stiff-cover exercise book she has written: