17 August

What a most exciting day it has been, dearest journal! I found it an appropriate time to visit with the town today, having made up my mind to find some manner of plantable foods, a post office, and a perfectly coincidental meeting with a young woman in need of a housemate, and had left rather early to see to these desires when I was foolishly struck by a rainstorm before I'd even left the premises of the walkway to the house. Now why, you might wonder, did I not simply go back inside and wait out the rain like a sensible person? I should hardly need to remind you that I do not think things through very thoroughly, and when given the opportunity to display my stubbornness for my own desires, will always fight to display it. Who was I to let the rain dictate my actions? As endearing as the weather usually was, and sitting indoors over a book while I listened to the loving hum of rain was a favourite pastime of mine, I still needed food for the future, and candles! By the heavens, I could not forget the candles, or I would find myself without light very shortly for who knew how long, until the rain decided to up and move countries, I would think. No, it would not do to wait out the storm that so untimely opened over my head, so I did what any stubborn, insensible young woman would do, and I walked right through the rain towards the cluster of darkened buildings in town.

Naturally, my stubbornness was at once rewarded with a fevre that broke out nearly as soon as I stepped foot into the main store. Health already ruined, I was rendered a coughing mess for an embarrassing amount of time, until the shopkeeper ushered me into the living quarters behind the store and guided me to a kettle and a coat.

"What on God's green earth possessed you to go out in this weather?" They were a gruff sort, but I appreciated the tea and the coverings, so the rumble of their voice was far more welcome than it would have been on a sunny day.

"I'm sorry! I needed to replenish a few supplies, and I couldn't very well wait." This warranted a snort from the owner, whose eyebrows were fantastically bushy and covered a great deal of his forehead. They admonished me for not waiting, at which point several small faces peeped from around his tree-seized legs. Strangers apparently a rarity, I was soon besieged by three children, none more than five years, and plied for details about where I'd come from, where I was going, how long would I stay, and if I would please play a game. Being raised near the sea always offered plenty of companionship amongst those whose parents had been away for far too long, but never this young! Still, I understood the importance of children pestering people, and I entertained their questions as long as I could.

Here, I remembered my poor decision to leave the house, and sneezed so hard that I'm afraid I startled two of the children into tears! Imagine that. I blushed in fierce embarrassment and covered my face as one of the children screamed and fled behind the shopkeeper's legs once more, the others taking flight up the stairs, where their mother soon emerged from.

There are occasional people you meet in the world (how lofty do I sound, as though I have an ounce of wisdom in me!) where, upon seeing their face for the first time, you are certain you know everything there is to know about them. The wife and mother, who stepped so slowly and weightlessly down each step was, one of these people. I had seen plenty of women and girls and the rare man besieged with sickness from the inside, a sort of consumption of the soul from the bones outward, and their features were all shared - her face was a soft grey, as though rubbed tenderly with the sooty remains from a fire, and her eyes had lost the vibrancy held not long ago, soon enough in time to have no doubt happily produced all of those children. Her hair was wrapped up, so all I could see of it was the peek of a braid behind her should, but what of it I could see was so thin and wispy I would have been heavily surprised to see that she was not balding. It was a pitiful sight, but so filled with compassion was I, that I stood at once and clasped my hands to my chest and uttered some sigh of teary-eyed woe.

We were quickly introduced. The ailing mother was called Georginia Thomas, an uncommon blend of her grandmother's names, and I introduced myself as Winnifred Peterson, something that only occurs but rarely, as I do not enjoy being reminded of times of trouble, when my mother would use my full given name! We sat down and talked over our tea, so kindly heated up by Mr. Thomas, who, having seen his wife and his guest in good hands, made back for his original position in the shop. As we sipped our earl grey, Georginia told me of her children, four of whom she had brought into the world. The littlest three were the ones who had besieged me earlier, and were the nine years Jack, the seven years Lily, and the four years Peter, all of whom shared her husband's family traits of having fine blond hair and dramatic grey eyes. As for the oldest, I was informed she was out picking flowers when the rain had set in, and was likely staying at a neighbour's house until the storm passed. Georginia did not divulge this name to me, which burned in my bosom a fantastic curiousity! Who else but I would be caught outdoors at such an unfortunate time?

My curiousity was soon abated, which is a thoroughly uncommon experience, I shall admit straightforward.

My father enjoyed teasing me for my thirst of useless knowledge and simplistic fascination with things, but I am usually left without answers for whatever my queries about the world or an incident may be. Here, I am forced to entertain a brief divergence from the matter at hand to reminisce about my days of exploration, when health would allow for it, around Philadelphia, and all of the fine, bizarre things I discovered in my jaunts around the city. It is incredible, really, to see so many mysteries in one small town, and then to hear of the tales brought back from the sea! Mysteries have always held my heart, and anything with a question to be had about it is a balm for any sickness of the body or mind if ever I've seen! I shall end my wordy blathering and continue with my relaying of events, something that shall doubtless happen again.

Soon after Georginia had spoken of this absent offspring did the door to the front of their humble home open and damp footsteps, followed by a sudden gust of the rainy wind, entered the building. I was loathe to appear too eager, mind you, to see someone I had never met before, so I attempted as best as I could to sit still and stifle my sneezes. A voice like the sunniest of days could be heard chattering politely away with the shopkeeper (Alfred, as I am so remiss to keep forgetting to add!) and then the voice trailed away into a greeting for the pale-faced woman who looked eagerly on besides me.

"Evelyn, my child!" Georginia stood as quickly as her illness allowed and embraced the damp stranger, coughing a bit from the force of her caress.

"Mother! I'll be the death of you if you hold me so tightly; I wasn't gone very long." The sunny voice, though tinged with concern for mother, was still so charismatic that I will admit to being nearly tortured by my continued silence, so eagerly did I wish for an introduction! Alas, history taught me a smart lesson only once before I learned the folly of introducing yourself when your host has not deemed it appropriate to do so themselves. Ever the introverted individual, imagining one's life story is an easy task when fascinated with someone, and I've been embarrassingly carried away by that sensation once before! I was not eager to repeat the shame, mind you!

Fortunately for me and my sneezing anticipation, I was mercifully granted this sought after introduction when the most charming face turned around and beamed surprisingly at me.

"Mother! You did not tell me we had a guest!" The so-called Evelyn immediately came up to me and inclined herself in my direction. "I must apologise at once for my dampness, though by the looks of it, I am not the only who has been silly enough to wander around outdoors, if you don't mind me saying." She winked her very large, doe-like eyes at me and smiled, before reaching a hand out and saying "You may call me Evie." Overcome with a great many emotions (how excellent was she, and possessing of such an immediately passionate personality!), I believe I blushed violently and stood, taking her wet hand in my own.

"A pleasure!" I managed to stammer out, hoping I did not expel a cough or a sneeze on this fine creature. "And you may call me Winn; I have been quite the fool in my departure this afternoon when it looked so grim out, but I was quite in need of a few things, and your wonderful family has been so kind as to invite me as a result of that foolishness." She pressed my hand and smiled even more.

"Excellent! I should expect no less; indeed, you are always welcome, sick and wet, or healthy and dry." Turning to face her mother, who was smiling in the tired sort of way one does when they are witnessing events take place exactly as they saw, Evelyn (or Evie, as I had been so privileged to be given!) raised her available hand in triumph. Clutched within her grasp were several rather wilty looking flowers of considerable size, which I mention to highlight my enamourment with her, for anyone else would have most certainly gone ignored, had I noticed those flowers at first. What worthy treasure to brave a cold for! Some time passed in which the flowers were found a new home in an emptied pot, and Georginina returned to the warmth of the upstairs, where Evie explained she would likely sleep the rest of the day. Upon hearing their sister's voice, the three smaller children came scampering out from the four corners of the house to jump on her and ply her with questions, much as they had with me, with albeit more familial affection. More tea was brought out, biscuits were served (I had been coached before my departure from Philadelphia that the British used biscuits over cookies, and I aim to be a dutiful guest in using the correct terms here!), and Evie and I spent the rest of the daylight chattering away about our various origins, families, and goals for the near future. It was only when the sun dove over the cliffs and vanished into the sea that we noticed just how much time had past!

I apologised for my intrusion, to which Evie and her siblings, coming and going as they pleased around the house, decried nonsense and implored me to stay. "You shall share my room, if I must insist!" she offered, explaining that while there weren't any spare rooms, there were plenty of bankets and pillows that could be formed into a makeshift bed. "What miserable hosts would we be, to send a neighbour out in the cold and the dark!" And so it is that I sribble so, in my makeshift cot on the floor beside Evie's own bed, detailing the excitements of the day! As of now, I have been left to make my toilet and perhaps recover a bit from the social exertions of the last few hours, and dinner is being cooked as I write, the smell wafting into the room and making me admittedly dizzy with hunger.

Going out in the rain was not such a terrible idea, after all! I have made myself an introduction to my new neighbours (if a walk into town counts for that), have refrained from shaming my homeland with any outward ignorance of English customs (most notably with my eager consumption of tea, which seemed to please the Thomases), and have made a friend in the most unlikely of circumstances! To think, if we had not both deigned to take a walk in the unfortunate state outdoors, we might have missed one another for God only knew how many more weeks!

Ah, dinner is being called, and I summoned. I shall try to set off for home tomorrow morning, but in the event that I find myself too busy to write, fear not! I will be a diligent reporter when I next open these pages.

Cheerily, 

Winn