5th September 1820
Today we are going back to England as I promised.
I am talk about storytelling…
I have always imagined you, my dear diary, as such
a student who sit under my feet who listens to me patiently and with written
delight on their physiognomy… Maybe it is like my husband’s… Very handsome man…
However, it is important that the horse did not
destroy his face. It is important and he is doing well. I think he may figure
out something again tomorrow… For real, it would not surprise me. He is such a restless
kind of man…
We have enough of fait divers, do not we? It is
time to get to the point.
Today I would like to focus on Shakespeare for
the last time. Well, as I mentioned before, I fought for his chair like a lion.
And here is how it was...
Stratford. Shakespeare's little country. Before
we got there, we went to few places from our map. I remember, e.g., Stonehenge,
where I took moss and a piece of stone; The Crescent in Bath - a fashionable
and beautiful health resort where we spent perhaps two whole days... And many
more... And finally, we ended up in the playwright's birthplace. The house is full
of souvenirs, and the local people only live off the numerous visits of
tourists. It touched me deeply, my heart was squeezed by sentimental cry, and
his parents looked at my warm feelings towards their little son from the frame
proudly... Anyway, that painting was beautiful. Shakespeare's sister work.
I could not leave this place without a souvenir,
as you already know, I bought a wood of his chair. It was not easy. Firstly,
the owner and descendant of the Great Artist did not want to give away this
piece of furniture, so I spent a considerable fortune to convince her.
Secondly, the old man did not want to move... I mean the chair was probably glued
to the floor… Nevertheless, it is important that I have wood with me, and I
will find a beautiful humorous place in our palace. Oh yes!
When the bard deigns to visit me again at night,
he will sit comfortably in his old chair. Oh yes, yes!! We will talk like two friends-poets
about the blue of the sky and spring revival...
I must go… I promised Mary that I would appear in
her chamber this evening. I put the kitty under my arm and go. Bisou.
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