September 30, 1911.
Steady rain has buffeted Halford Towers for four days now. Water is streaming along the drive. The sustained deluge has turned the lawn to mud, filled the moat to the brim and drenched the ornamental chimney-sweeps (with accompanying urchins) which stand guard upon the pillars by the gates.
The drought which gripped our nation this summer seems a century ago. The glory of Warwickshire's championship triumph does not fade but still it is difficult to keep the spirits up when all around is grey and wet. Wet and grey. Grey, grey and wet. Grey. Wet, wet, wet (you know, that might make a natty name for a musical combination).
Dilys and I have made our minds up. My dearest treasure is down at the travel agent now making enquiries. We are going to Australia to follow Mr Foster and Mr Kinneir as they help England win the Ashes.
I have told Young Algernon that the business is in his hands for the winter. D and I intend to be in Adelaide by November 10 for the MCC's first match against South Australia. The boat trip will be good preparation for our second honeymoon (we have first-class tickets for the Titanic sailing to America in April).
Ah, here comes Dilys now, hurrying up the drive, Munge striding beside her with the umbrella. She is wet through but waving something in her hand...




Algernon - I sincerely hope that, by the miracle of the electric telegraph, you will continue to entertain and inform us as to the progress of our gallant team throughout the winter.
One word of warning - the Commonwealth Franchise Act of 1902 gave Australian women not only the right to vote but also to be elected to parliament. You will realise, therefore, that it is an uncivilised world you are journeying to. Be sure that Dilys is not corrupted.
Thank you Gerry. I will endeavour to keep chronicling throughout the winter and also, when we land in Australia, shall attempt to enlighten the population there about one or two important matters.