Made it. (Thank God).

Ever Dearest Diary,

We made it! Finally Ron’! Home sweet home. I feel like Kevin Costner in Robin Hood at times like these, kissing the sandy shore of my belovēd England. Ha ha! What joy! We made it boy! Food! Water! As much sleepsies and cuddles as you like Ronulus! Yes mate! You’re no longer obliged to be here or there or doing anything that is not going to help you finish your degree in Natural Canine Sciences (Canineology) BArker (Rons) with Classical History of the Canis specialism. Ronulus Latratus has worked hard for his Certificate in Higher Canine Obidience, now he’s determined to get his Diploma, and eventually, Degree. Anyway.

Robes and black-square hat-shaped cornerstones from the Temple of Solomon aside, what else happened today? Yes. Lots.

The sound of a lone violin drifted along the lazily busy city high street of Wells. I threw a goodly amount of coins into the venerable lady-fiddler’s case.

I saw something amazing today: the inside of Wells Cathedral. It was truly breathtaking. I had to be quick because little Mr. Latratus was chained up outside.

On the way back through I spoke to the fiddler, who said she had given up; the city was awash with smack-head beggars, all in army gear, all pretending to be ex-veterans. They had no Regimental insignia, and from their tardiness it was apparent not one of them had the discipline of a professional soldier about him.

The next town was just as full of scallys. After being refused service at ‘battery farm drinkers’ (I went into wetherspoons for a meal) I managed to instead (1) stay sober all day, and (2) buy a few new books for around £2 each! Result! :)

So. I went and grabbed a jumbo breakfast at a greasy spoon, and finally, finally made it home.

The moment I arrived home I thought, “I fancy a good smoke.” but had none, long since had my tiny stash been consumed into dust. I reached for my tobacco, there, in the bottom of the pocket was something else. It felt dry but squishy. Lo and behold, Hallelujah Praise the Lord: it was a tiny Camden toothpick that had become brown and wet in the rain. I am aware that tobacco and water is a deadly poison, but I think I’ll take the risk on this one little bobby, re-wrapped in fresh garments. Thank you God!

Gung Fu popped round after seeing my window open, we traded Native American spirit commodities. Now everything is warm and fuzzy. I need a bath, and then to get back to my assignment, gladly.

Max.