Saturday, 27 June 2015

A Hobbit's Food Diary

This transcription is from a page found torn out of a Hobbit's diary. The page was squeezed into a paper ball and found between the branches of the Party Tree. There seems to be some food stains over some of the words. This is the best I could make out:


Two Eggs Benedict for breakfast. Just two! Farmer Ham's chickens have been under the weather as of late. My poor tummy is suffering more, I say! Then a cup of tea (Greenleaf with honey) and some toast. I am feeling a tad sour. Note to self: must find glasses.

Elevensies of the clock

I have been chasing a chicken around old Ham's garden now for twenty minutes. I know an egg is about to pop out! I can feel it in my bones. Just one more egg, and maybe a toast soldier to dunk into the yolk. Hmm. Talking of Ham... a slice or three would be most welcome, thank you very much! Damn that hen!


I feel faint. I have had eight muffins just to make myself feel better. The third Egg Benedict of the day will have to wait. I can feel my ribs - I should soon be quite weak! After all, a Gentle-Hobbit such as myself should be keeping his health. Not running after hens! What would the neighbours think? Not that I can see my neighbours. Damn.
Where are my glasses?

Half past Two

The strangest occurrence just... occurred! Goodness, I can't think of a proper sentence. My hands are shaking, can you tell? One of the Big Folk, a tall one - black cloaked and with a horse to match - knocked on my door asking for the Bag Inn. There ain't no Bag Inn 'round these parts, I told him, I did. He mumbled some curses, got on his horse and galloped off. Too right! Don't mess with a Hungry Hobbit! I shook my fist at him I did! (When he wasn't looking, that is) Back to chasing that hen.

Quarter to Three

Blast. Tripped into cow dung. I can hear Mrs Fairgrass laughing from here. Gah!


I give up. I am famished. Beaten. Contused. Vengeful! I shall retire home. Possibly find some morsel and catch up on my reading. Damn. Still need to find my glasses...

Quarter past dusk (I cannot see the clock)

Where are my glasses?

Exactly eighteen minutes past the seventh hour.

I have found my glasses. The world is much clearer. I can see the shapes of each leaf in the Party Tree, the designs in my wallpaper, the colours of the feathers on that Rooster -

That was the last of the writing on the page.

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