Sunday, 3rd June, 1838

So, tomorrow I leave Adelaide behind me.

Not, I should add, because I am heading back to London, although that happy release seems to draw ever closer, but because I am bound on an excursion to Encounter Bay and Kingscote. It seems a fine idea to leave the cares of the town behind me and travel on a Vice-Regal inspection of the outlying areas of the Province.

In complete honesty the thing is a holiday, but if I can pass it off as "the burden of office" then all well and good.

The plan is to go by boat to Rapid Bay, to inspect Light's suggested site for a future township; then overland to Encounter Bay (Stevenson, who is organising this jaunt, assures me that we will be met at Rapid Bay by a party from the Whaling Station with horses. I cannot help but feel that relying on whalers amounts to being ruled by the heart and not the head. But Stevenson, in an act of faith that might give pause to a medieval Saint, assures me "all will be well".) and finally by ship to Kingscote, before returning to Adelaide.

This delightful itinerary is marred only by those who have announced they will accompany me. Stevenson and Strangways I do not object to. Stevenson can be good company and even Strangways is harmless enough. But Milner Stephen has announced he will be coming along, as if I do not get enough of him already. And Milner Stephens is like "Gentleman's Relish" - a little goes a long way. To complete my delight, Mrs Hindmarsh has decided to grace me with her presence and let the girls take their chances at home with Widow Harvey.  Fortunately, my sister Anne will also be home with them, so at least there will be one person of irreproachable character and good sense to attend to them.

People are very keen for me to see the harbours at Nepean Bay and Encounter Bay, telling me much of their excellence and quality. They forget two things: (1) That whatever the quality of Nepean Bay it is attached to the drunken orgy that is Kingscote and hence will be chiefly used for the importation of spiritous liquors. Is this entirely desirable? (2) Encounter Bay may or may not be a fine harbour. What is certain is that it is the harbour where my only son and heir and scion of the Hindmarshes nearly drowned in a shipwreck and hence might not be one I look upon in an entirely unbiased fashion. Still, I shall endeavour to maintain an open mind.

Monday's theatrical performance exceeded my expectations, but only in as far as it was even worse than I thought it would be. I am by no means a follower of Thespis and have never worn the tragic buskin nor the comic sock, yet even I understand that the first undertaking of the actor is to commit the words of the play to memory. It seems that this was not entirely understood by the actors the other night. It is also my understanding that there is a person behind the scenery with a copy of the play whose task it is to remind the actors of any forgotten words. It seems that such an officer was not present, leaving the actors to stand about giggling and toying with their fans and fob watches whenever memory came up blank, as it frequently did.

I might also have expected songs labelled as "comic" to contain at least a smile. They did not. 

The corps de ballet, who, it seems, represented Mountain Sylphs, were a lumpen lot who could have caused an avalanche as they thundered about the stage. 

The only positives that I could see were that many of the actors did not know how to project their voices, which meant that for much of the evening one could sit in blissful silence. And the forty year old actor who played the heroic young lover had the good taste to wear a bow tie, which matched his bow legs.

Mrs Hindmarsh declared the performance "a triumph" and "worthy of the London stage", (which suggests that standards in London must have slipped mightily) and has said that she cannot wait to see their next performance. With any luck that recall to London will come before then.

My daughter's Drawing Lessons continue apace. She has certainly taken to Lee's Coffee Shop, where artists gather. I was sent by Mrs Hindmarsh this week to Lee's to collect her in the carriage, as Milner Stephen, her ostensible chaperon, was unable to deliver her to the house due to pressing business. It appears that I embarrassed her by entering the place and "showing her up" in front of her friends. "What would they think of her? The people she associated with?" she said, as though I was some street urchin or pickpocket dragging her back to some den of vice.

I pointed out that not every girl in the colony has the Queen's Representative wait on them in the Vice Regal carriage, but I was told, not for the first time, that "You just don't understand!" Indeed not.

One young man I did notice while I was in the shop, though I did not catch his name, was a languid youth of a sickly pallor that contrasted with his jet black hair and his black clothes. He sat glowering at all and sundry and especially me. He said not one word save a muttered "Later...." as Mary and I left.

I asked Mary about him and it seems that he goes by the name of "Endymion", having recently declared that he would no longer answer to the name his parents gave him, which is, I suspect, something mundane like "Fred Jones" or "Berty Smith".

Mary assures me that Endymion (or Berty) is "a deep thinker" and has "terrific ideas". If I am any judge of young men of twenty summers I think I can guess pretty closely what those "terrific ideas" might be, especially where unchaperoned young girls might be involved. Deep thinker, my arse!