On our way out of this horrid place {Fanny Dorrit}

Well! I've finally purchased a laptop of my own, after wanting one for ever so long.  We get terrible Internet access here at the Marshalsea, and I'm hoping that will change once we arrive in Venice.

My family has recently come into a large sum of money, and we're finally able to leave nasty London and travel the continent just as I've always dreamed of doing.  Of course I have to leave behind my dancing friends, which is too bad, but at least I won't have to bother with that annoying Edmund Sparkler anymore.

It's been such fun purchasing new clothes at last, and I must say my father and Tip look quite dashing in their outfits.  Amy, however, is plaguing the whole family to no end.  She's always cramped my style, but now that we actually have the means to truly dress well, she insists on still wearing her old gowns!  I do believe the silly little mouse likes being poor as a beggar!

Dear me, I've just realized that you don't know how my family looks, do you?  Let me introduce you to them.

First there is my father, William Dorrit, who once called himself the Father of the Marshalsea, but has (I'm glad to say) left behind all that nonsense now his fortune's come in.  This picture was taken before we got the inheritance, of course.

Then there is my brother Edward, whom we once called Tip (I can't seem to get out of the habit, but of course I simply have to) when we were... living lower, you might say.  But now, of course, he must be referred to as Edward.

Edward and Papa are really the only members of my family who can see sense about anything.   Amy, now... ugh.  Sometimes she's the best and dearest little mouse, and sometimes she's downright vexing.  I don't know if she'll ever grasp what it is to be a fine lady!

Then there's Uncle Frederick, who's nearly as bad as Amy, but thank heavens he doesn't give us as much trouble.  (Amy, on the other hand, thinks of no one but herself and her silly pauper friends.)  I doubt he'll ever become such a fine figure of a man as Papa, but one can always hope.

Ugh, my Internet connection is horrid here! I'm afraid I'll have to sign off for now until we get going on our journey. The inn we're staying at on the first night supposedly has wi-fi, so I'll check in then.

Horrors! An update before I leave-- Papa has gone ahead and engaged a companion for Amy and me as we travel! Some horrid old buzzard named Mrs. General-- I do not need a governess, thank you very much, and this woman, from what I've seen of her, seems perfectly dreadful.  But perhaps she will do Amy some good and at least halfway teach her how to be a lady.

Oh, dear, my laptop's running out of batt---

Visit To The Hales

  Mother and I called on the Hales yesterday, as we had planned. Their house was so small and dingy! Why, our staircases are wider then the drawing room. Miss Hale and her mother were very polite and ladylike, but Miss Hale is not musical, and they had no piano. I wonder how they can exsist without one. It seems to me to be a necessary of life. Miss Hale has been to London, however; indeed, she lived there for several years. Oh, how I long to go to London! It must be so delightful to be able to hear all the newest music and see all the new fashions as soon as they come out. She had not read Tales of the Alhambra, which I found disappointing. She probably doesn't have much taste in literature.
  It turns out that the Hales left their vicarage in Helstub(it was something like that) because of a matter of conscience. I'm not quite sure what that means, but I think it was rather foolish of Mr. Hale to give up his living and come here. I can't imagine how anyone could trade a nice country home for a dirty, smoky place like Milton. But then, it's none of my business.
  Of course, Mother had to brag about John before we left. Why does she always do that? It's not as if he's anything out of the ordinary. She seems to think that just because he worked his way up from poverty and paid off all Father's debts and started Marlborough Mills and became a magistrate that he's something special. She never brags about ME. And there's far more reason to brag about me than about John. It's not as if he's a musical prodigy. Oh, well. I think I'll go play the piano.