The Diary of a Nobody

The Diary of a Nobody

"Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see — because I do not happen to be a 'Somebody' — why my diary should not be interesting. My only regret is that I did not commence it when I was a youth."

This is a daily weblog version of The Diary of a Nobody, written by George Grossmith and originally serialised in Punch magazine in 1888 and 1889. Bringing Charles Pooter into the 21st century, his diary is now available as a selection of weblog-style RSS feeds which you can subscribe to, via a feed aggregator, or through certain browsers. The diary restarts on April 3 each year.

You can either:-

  • Subscribe to the 2017-as-1888 feed, which is running in real-time, delivering an entry on whichever days Pooter has written one, as if 2017 were 1888.
  • Subscribe to the daily feed, starting today. This will give you one entry per day, starting from the beginning, and irrespective of the gaps where Pooter is busy or has had his diary damaged. If you want to start at a different point, or join someone else who's reading it, just change the date in the URL.
Charles Pooter

August 23.—I bought a pair of stags’ heads made of plaster-of-Paris and coloured brown.  They will look just the thing for our little hall, and give it style; the heads are excellent imitations.  Poolers and Smith are sorry they have nothing to offer Lupin.

Charles Pooter

August 22.—Home sweet Home again!  Carrie bought some pretty blue-wool mats to stand vases on.  Fripps, Janus and Co. write to say they are sorry they have no vacancy among their staff of clerks for Lupin.

Charles Pooter

August 20.—I am glad our last day at the seaside was fine, though clouded overhead.  We went over to Cummings’ (at Margate) in the evening, and as it was cold, we stayed in and played games; Gowing, as usual, overstepping the mark.  He suggested we should play “Cutlets,” a game we never heard of.  He sat on a chair, and asked Carrie to sit on his lap, an invitation which dear Carrie rightly declined.

After some species of wrangling, I sat on Gowing’s knees and Carrie sat on the edge of mine.  Lupin sat on the edge of Carrie’s lap, then Cummings on Lupin’s, and Mrs. Cummings on her husband’s.  We looked very ridiculous, and laughed a good deal.

Gowing then said: “Are you a believer in the Great Mogul?”  We had to answer all together: “Yes—oh, yes!” (three times).  Gowing said: “So am I,” and suddenly got up.  The result of this stupid joke was that we all fell on the ground, and poor Carrie banged her head against the corner of the fender.  Mrs. Cummings put some vinegar on; but through this we missed the last train, and had to drive back to Broadstairs, which cost me seven-and-sixpence.

Charles Pooter

August 19, Sunday.—I was about to read Lupin a sermon on smoking (which he indulges in violently) and billiards, but he put on his hat and walked out.  Carrie then read me a long sermon on the palpable inadvisability of treating Lupin as if he were a mere child.  I felt she was somewhat right, so in the evening I offered him a cigar.  He seemed pleased, but, after a few whiffs, said: “This is a good old tup’ny—try one of mine,” and he handed me a cigar as long as it was strong, which is saying a good deal.

Charles Pooter

August 18.—Gowing and Cummings walked over to arrange an evening at Margate.  It being wet, Gowing asked Cummings to accompany him to the hotel and have a game of billiards, knowing I never play, and in fact disapprove of the game.  Cummings said he must hasten back to Margate; whereupon Lupin, to my horror, said: “I’ll give you a game, Gowing—a hundred up.  A walk round I the cloth will give me an appetite for dinner.”  I said: “Perhaps Mister Gowing does not care to play with boys.”  Gowing surprised me by saying: “Oh yes, I do, if they play well,” and they walked off together.

Charles Pooter

August 17.—Lupin not falling in with our views, Carrie and I went for a sail.  It was a relief to be with her alone; for when Lupin irritates me, she always sides with him.  On our return, he said: “Oh, you’ve been on the ‘Shilling Emetic,’ have you?  You’ll come to six-pennorth on the ‘Liver Jerker’ next.”  I presume he meant a tricycle, but I affected not to understand him.

Charles Pooter

August 16.—Lupin positively refused to walk down the Parade with me because I was wearing my new straw helmet with my frock-coat.  I don’t know what the boy is coming to.

Charles Pooter

August 15.—Cleared up a bit, so we all took the train to Margate, and the first person we met on the jetty was Gowing.  I said: “Hulloh!  I thought you had gone to Barmouth with your Birmingham friends?”  He said: “Yes, but young Peter Lawrence was so ill, they postponed their visit, so I came down here.  You know the Cummings’ are here too?”  Carrie said: “Oh, that will be delightful!  We must have some evenings together and have games.”

I introduced Lupin, saying: “You will be pleased to find we have our dear boy at home!”  Gowing said: “How’s that?  You don’t mean to say he’s left the Bank?”

I changed the subject quickly, and thereby avoided any of those awkward questions which Gowing always has a knack of asking.

Charles Pooter

August 14.—I was a little annoyed to find Lupin, instead of reading last night, had gone to a common sort of entertainment, given at the Assembly Rooms.  I expressed my opinion that such performances were unworthy of respectable patronage; but he replied: “Oh, it was only ‘for one night only.’  I had a fit of the blues come on, and thought I would go to see Polly Presswell, England’s Particular Spark.”  I told him I was proud to say I had never heard of her.  Carrie said: “Do let the boy alone.  He’s quite old enough to take care of himself, and won’t forget he’s a gentleman.  Remember, you were young once yourself.”  Rained all day hard, but Lupin would go out.

Charles Pooter

August 13.—Hurrah! at Broadstairs.  Very nice apartments near the station.  On the cliffs they would have been double the price.  The landlady had a nice five o’clock dinner and tea ready, which we all enjoyed, though Lupin seemed fastidious because there happened to be a fly in the butter.  It was very wet in the evening, for which I was thankful, as it was a good excuse for going to bed early.  Lupin said he would sit up and read a bit.

The Diary of a Nobody is the fictitious diary of Charles Pooter, written by George Grossmith and originally serialised in Punch magazine in 1888 and 1889.
The text of this version is taken from the Gutenberg etext, and the weblog format was engineered by Kevan Davis (initially a straight weblog in 2004, then rewritten as an auto RSS generator in April 2007).