One small boy

I have had the most frustrating day, which has only been exacerbated by a wedding taking place outside my window. I have shouted for quiet from my burrow, but the festivities are continuing, much to my chagrin. The ringleaders, as predicted, are Samuel Whiskers and Anna Maria, who have had too much to drink and are showboating. Earlier, while rearranging my bookcase, I heard them joke to Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit that they were 'available for babysitting'. Anna Maria laughed so hard she nearly soiled herself, but Mrs Twitchit, who loves to bear a grudge, remained unmoved.

I was out in the field with Benjamin looking for nettles when I let my guard down (I believe I was thinking about death at the time). A small boy - possibly one of MacGregor's grandchildren - scooped me up and carried me back to his garden. I was so taken with rage I was unable to move, which the boy wrongly interpreted as a sign of meekness. After being forced to escort him around the premises, lovingly tucked inside his shirt, he then dressed me in a bonnet and made me engage in a 'tea party' with him. The final straw was being made to parade around in a velvet housecoat; I scratched him on the face and ran off, the coat lagging behind me. I have since given it to Flopsy. It makes her look like a dowdy flannel, which has pleased me greatly. Benjamin has said he is 'sorry' for leaving me with the small boy, but I shall take my time before exacting revenge.

My new job

I've started a new position as a 'weeder' for Mr. McGregor - a new role, by all accounts - and I'm desperate to talk to him about it. I was under the impression that this was to be a solitary role, and I've been effectively forced to work with Squirrel Nutkin. He keeps bleating about his missing tail; I try and weed elsewhere, but he just follows me. Sometimes he dances over to the spot where I am working in a petulant, flirtatious way, muttering riddles under his breath. I can begin to see why Old Brown tired of him - although rumour has it they still see each other at Christmas.

I saw Mr Todd skulking around the back of a barn last night and I almost walked by (Benjamin has never forgiven me for going to Todd's birthday drinks). We had an awkward exchange - something to do with some lambs - and I left him to it. He has never been quite the same since that brawl with Tommy Brock - he must have sustained a cranial injury.

"I never see you around much any more," Todd said, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

I explained about my time in rabbit prison and my new job, and explained about Nutkin. "Ah yes, the sunbeam," he remarked, dryly. He wanted to go out, but I was reluctant to provide a time and a date. The last time we got together, he was excessively rude to some restaurant staff and I have not been welcome on Owl Island since as the booking was in my name.

Must go, Nutkin is advancing upon me again.