December 27th, 1762

Christmas was an odious affair.
Not only my mother was pampering me, my dear sisters and Mrs. P., too, had to have their share. The constant crying and babbling of their the infants couldn´t quite raise my mood for the festivities. They´ll stay until the end of January, when P´s confinement will have an end; but no end of my torture. Apparently.


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