William+FitzGerald's+Journal+-+May+8,+1822

May 8, 1822

I arrived home a day ago.

Home, I never thought Naas would be home but I find it to suit me, the people are simple and straight forward; Nassians are honest folk, they are a rarity in these troubled times. I admit I still wish for the days of old when I had nothing to worried about besides whether or not Basil would cook that delicious roast duck he was so good at... *The remainder of the sentence is crossed out in a mess of scribbles*

I have found a new friend! A charming fellow that was so gracious he gave me a fine selection of Irish ale. It is quite good and have taken this as a sign that I should indulge in good things while they last, for if we cannot enjoy the simple pleasures in life what is honestly the point? So I purpose a toast, to my new friend. I wish James was here, he was the only one besides Basil who could even stand me when I had been drinking, although I use the term "stand" loosely. Although I am not as bad as Henry when drunk, at least I have the decorum and pois to... *pois is crossed with a line* and poise to show the proud heritage that is of all things Irish! On that note I think I'll open another bottle.

I am Irish, I don't think I'll ever get use to that. I have never given the potato lovers a second thought yet here I am living amongst them as a man of the wilds; I do admit that I like that part... I think I should see the butcher, I have never eaten my own prey, I think he'd be willing to part with some of my "harty" bounty.


 * The lower half of the page is covered in in small dapples of ale*


 * next page*

Success! I have the meat that is so "deer" to me. Now how do you cook this...