Day 2

Friday 7th November
Stormy
It turns out that Evans is not the only one to get sea-sick. The captain also suffers- given which I'd have said, dear Diary, that he hadn't made the most sensible career choice, but there you go- so I drove for a bit today. Rosebud's also down with it, bless him. Parker and Williams are holding up well. Oh, and Stinky.

I was about to turn in after writing those words, dear Diary, when I noticed my hot-water bottle had gone. Investigating further, I discovered that my blanket had also disappeared. Well, I had my suspiscions, Diary dear. No-one could call me an irrationally prejudiced man, though goodness knows Parker and Williams have tried (see above), but a name did suggest itself. So purely in the interests of eliminating that name from my enquiry, I popped down a floor to a certain cabin where a green-faced man was snoozing fitfully, wrapped up in- what do you know?- my blanket and clutching my hot-water bottle. I recovered my posessions and noted with a kind of sad resignation the justice of my suspiscions, and there the matter ended.

There the matter ended? Well, not quite. I have an awfull secret to confess, dear Diary. Promise me you won't tell? Not a soul? On your honour as a gentleman? All right, here it is. While I was down there, I stole his favourite teddy bear.