Too Much Adoration

Was looking forward to Sunday but alas! I seem to be thwarted in all my endeavours.
I planted nicotianas in the North Walk. A cat stalked onto the newly-dug bed and left its hellish visiting card. I hate cats. They remind me of Venus. The slanting eyes, the yellow jealousies...
Give me a dog any day, and the larger the better. Fergus is wonderfully faithful and always goes behind the potting shed to relieve himself. Sometimes I suspect Henry does as well.

Telegram from Ginny: COMING TO PICK YOUR BRAINS STOP MUST HAVE COUNTRY COTTAGE RETREAT PREFERABLY WITHIN TWENTY MINUTES' WALK OF SIZZLINGHURST STOP SEE YOU AT LUNCHTIME STOP HOPE NOT INCONVENIENT STOP MOMENT OF UNCERTAINTY ON LANDING THIS MORNING STOP BETWEEN POOL OF SUNLIGHT AND STRANGE PURPLISH SHADOW STOP.

Ginny, twenty minutes' walk away!  The thought chills my soul. I must have solitude. Even Henry has to be five minutes' walk away at the very nearest. Thank heavens for separate bedrooms, though candidly I would be easier in my mind if there were two towers at Sizzlinghurst so we could have one each. Preferably half a mile apart. Wonder if I could create a moat and drawbridge around my tower, but fear it would lack the grand scale required for aesthetic success and look somehow suburban.

Trust Ginny to come hurtling down on a Sunday, when of course Mrs Gosling is at her Pentecostal meeting. There is probably nothing in the pantry except a slice of her cold tongue.
Inform Henry that Ginny is coming down to luncheon in search of property advice and he informed me briskly that he would be 'closeted' in the library all afternoon. I know there is absolutely no chance of my winkling Henry out of his closet so the whole burden of Ginny's visit must fall on me.

Visit pantry. A few carcasses strewn about. Put me in mind of the Peninsular War.
Heartened by the sight of a large cheese only a little nibbled by mice. Cut off the nibbled section and threw it to Fergus: he caught it in mid-air with the most tremendous chomp. Reminded me of Lady Utterline's way with a scone.

I have one hour before Ginny's arrival and I cannot decide whether to weed the North Border or bleach my moustache. Hesitating before the looking glass, I heard a timid knock below and found an urchin with a note.

'Dearest Darlingest Loveliest Vera,
Have booked into The White Hart Staplehurst as I am in the most tremendous pickle and desperately need your help.  Come soon! Come now! Come yesterday!!!!  Once you would have raced to my side but now I fear a certain literary lady possesses your heart. If I ever see her again I think I shall murder her. I have a paper knife in my reticule ready. Come now or I shall creep up to Sizzlinghurst this afternoon and lurk about the shrubbery until I find you. All my love forever, Venus.'
Ghastly scenario. Also deeply irritated by Venus's reference to a shrubbery. A shrubbery, indeed! She understands nothing.