Year of the Boar, Eighth Month, Day 16.

The weather has well and truly turned. I cannot imagine how anybody lives up here if the weather is like this all year round. Yesterday was cold but today, the temperature has been positively glacial. It has also been raining; not the soft, warm drizzle of the South but driving rain that lashes down marking ruts in the dirt and sending leaves and grass washing down the slight incline of what passes for a road out here. Fortunately, the Chief gave me a bag made from oilskin before I left the ship; had he not, I have no doubt that my papers and the silks I packed would already be ruined. I have been huddled behind a bush, shivering by the damp remains of the fire I lit last night. I did think that I would simply stay where I had sheltered to sleep for a short while until the rain stopped but instead of stopping, it steadily became worse. I have taken advantage of the fact that the rain has stopped in order to commit these few words to parchment but the skies are overcast by thunderous, black clouds and I am sure that it will be less than a stick before it starts to lash down upon me again. I do not know quite what to do...  If I stay here, I am convinced that I will not survive this cold and that I will freeze to death before I ever make it to the House. On the other hand, if I try to continue on foot, I may lose my way or fall and injure myself or suffer any number of hideous fates simply because I cannot see where I am going... On balance though, since I have no way to know when this weather will change, it may be a better idea to continue towards the House. I may pass a village and find help which I will certainly not if I stay behind this bush.