Mr Johnson's Journal

JANUARY 9, 1881. I have decided for the first time in my forty-nine years to keep a diary.

- Tony Redcliffe

No. That would not be correct. Not a diary. It shall be more of a journal, since I have no intention of keeping a daily account of the rather quiet life of a single middle-aged gentleman. Mutton chop for breakfast – that kind of thing. Nonsense!

No, I shall only record matters of some importance or interest, if there should be any. Which I doubt.

January 15.

On arriving home from the bank I found an envelope on the mat addressed to Arnold Johnson Esq. The envelope contained an invitation. Mr & Mrs William Weaver request the pleasure of the company of Mr Johnson at dinner at 8 p.m. on Friday, January 18. RSVP to 22 Crompton Road.

This is a surprise. I have only a casual acquaintance with Weaver. We see each other on the omnibus going into the city and exchange pleasantries.

I suspect that they have been let down by one of their intended guests and are anxious to balance the table, so to speak.

I intend this year to be more sociable, so I shall accept. If nothing else I might get a decent dinner and a glass or two of wine.

January 19.

The meal was acceptable. Oysters, mock turtle soup, a chicken pie, mutton chops and a treacle tart. Weaver gave me beer, which I find rather gassy, but later gave generous measures of a rather fine port wine.

Mrs Weaver was an attentive hostess. There was a Mr and Mrs Cyril Spark – he being Weaver’s superior at the Anglo-Indian Tea Company, and in whose honour I presumed the dinner was arranged, to further Weaver’s advancement in the company.

I was seated next to a widowed lady, Mrs Florence Wentworth.

Mrs Wentworth had only been widowed some six months, it seemed, and still wore widow’s weeds, but she had a smiling, open countenance and was a comely lady. I would not place her much above middle years.

I am no lady’s man, but Mrs Wentworth and I quite hit it off, as they say.