Monday, December 2, 2013

Sailing To England

I'm trying to think of a good way to begin these journal entries. I don't like the idea of saying Dear Diary as diary sounds far too American. I've read things where girls name their journals, but I find that kind of silly. I want a real, breathing friend, not a friend I can scribble in. I think I shall just start them by talking right off. Keep things simpler.

My journey to England keeps getting better and better. I found out I am to travel there by ship, and not just any ship, but one of those big, luxury ones. I should re-word that. I am now on it, and this very moment. I meant to write about all of the packing I had to do and my farewells to my mum and dad, but it was so busy getting ready to go I did not have time. Now I am underway and there seems no point. It has all passed and I am sailing to England, and am very excited for it, though a little homesick.

The ship is so large I don't think I will ever be able to explore all of it. I am in the Middle Class and I don't think I'm suppose to go to the Upper Class, which is one deck above the one I'm on, but no one said I shouldn't so I am going to try and if I get caught the worse they can do is tell me not to go back up there - at least I believe that is the worst that can happen. Maybe they will put me on an island all alone and leave me until pirates find me and take me to Port Royal or something. Or on a treasure hunt, like they did with Jim in Treasure Island.

I met a woman yesterday. She is traveling with her nephew, who she said is a lawyer which I didn't find all that interesting. But she was interesting at least. She asked me why I was on the ship and where I was sailing to so I told her about the school and England. She gave me some exciting news. She said she'd met another girl on board who was going to the same school. I am hoping to met her, while at the same time hoping I don't because I don't really like meeting strangers. That is why I've spent the voyage so far with my books, except for meeting the lady and her lawyer son.

I am going to stop writing now. We are stopping in a port tomorrow and I promised mum I'd send her letters from every port and have not yet written her one so must do that before dinner.

Maybe I need to think up a clever way to end these entries as well.


Friday, August 9, 2013


My name is Felicity, though if you're my friend then you can call me Lessie. I won't tell you my age, because that isn't important. What is is that I have red hair, I love books and trees - especially when they are together - and I have mixed emotions about starting school.

What an odd way to begin a journal entry, you might be thinking, and if you weren't you are likely thinking it now. The reason I am beginning it this way is because I am starting school. Very soon. Not that I've not been doing school before, as the evidence that I am writing this proves. All my life I've been homeschooled, but my mum and dad have decided to send me to something like a boarding school, though it isn't quite that.
I think it is a cross between a college, an orphanage, and reforming school, but much more interesting.

For example, I am going there to learn to be an author. I know, not an extremely noble profession, but it is so much better than sewing. (Though from what I've heard, there are special sewing classes there, among other things.)

The school has a very British name, which is fitting, since it is in England. Mind, I'm not English, but I've always loved England, I think it might be the accents. Mum thought it silly that I spent so much time drinking tea and calling her mum, but she's finally got used to it, which is why I think her and dad have agreed on an English school.

The school is for girls only, so I've this small hope I'll end up making lots of friends. Knowing my strange characteristics, this might be a hopeless endeavor, but I've always had hope where there should be none.

Currently I live in a little American village with trees and green grass - and not much else. It isn't quaint and lovely like in all the books I read, which is a pity. Also, when the wind blows from the west it smells like cows.

I've spent my whole life here, so I will be a bit sad to leave it. But this is England we are talking about, so I'm not broken hearted.

And that is why I am starting this journal. I want to record all my adventures so what when my hair turns grey - that  is how you spell gray in England - I shall have them all written down and won't have to try and recall them all to put them in a book.

Therefore, this is the first of which I hope to be many entries.