Royal College of Surgeons in Lincoln's Inn Fields. We discussed my lecture to be giv'n on the 16th and those that would be in attendance.
The weather has grown warmer, and the gray snow has begun to melt away a bit. The sun shown for several consecutive hours today and was quite pleasant. I got a good deal of exercise as I was able to walk the streets. It was good to stretch my legs beyond the boundries of the rooms at Upper Grosvenor Street.
I have several letters of the season that need to be written, but I find myself completely uninspired to do so. Thus far, I have only managed to write letters to Miss Waterman and Parson John back home.
Upon my return home, I was paid a visit in my room by Mr. & Mrs. Gamble. They are both quite concerned by the fact that I have not seen fit to remarry, and have bestowed on me all manner of advice.
Mrs. Gamble kissed me upon the cheek as she used a brush to clean my black coat and says, "Oh Doctor, the state of your wool is such that surely you will see fit to find a wife to tend it soon?" Says I, "If that time should present itself again, I will require much more of a wife than to simply brush my coats, but in the meantime, please do not brush a hole in my sleeve dear."
Mr. Gamble, with a twinkle in his eye says, "I know this one dear, the ladies will be lined up on his doorstep the moment he casts off his mourning clothes... but he's so blind he'll not realize it! Doesn't see anything but his medical texts and surgery journals that one."
"Don't make fun Joseph," Mrs Gamble defended as she began straightening the room, "I'm certain the Doctor would let us know if there WERE someone, say for example, this Miss Waterman?"
Mrs. Gamble had seen the letter in the silver dish by her front door as it lay in wait for my arrival. I am certain that they have wasted no time in postulating all manner of hypothesis on the state of my relationship with Miss Waterman.