I dare say I can barely tolerate the shenanigans of that man! The abysmal manners that he is passing on to our children is unacceptable! I’m still picking potato bits out of my hair. Edward can be such a slauterpooch, leaving his underdrawers lying about after his bath, emptying his pockets of greasy gears and dirty screws right onto the kitchen table… and the food fights! How much shouting can I do? One may think me some sort of maulifuff, as I’m always chastising the children for imitating their father, but Edward will not allow me to effectively punish them! They need a good spanking! HE needs a good spanking! I need a bit of tonic.
13 January 1912
Great progress was made towards a working prototype this evening in spite of the poorly lit Inventorium, and night seems the only time I can work unimpeded by a colicky baby, frenetic boys, and a shrewish wife (forgive me, dear Hattie.) But, O, the look on Hattie’s face as the peas were flung at Frank across the table, and the mashers that missed me and hit her… it was well worth the late start tonight… an extra thirty minutes for a fair tidy-up. My prototype should be done in plenty of time for Burrell’s 18th. Harry will be pleased. Not so sure about Belle.