5 November. Venue: Glastonbury. Our little sister Violet has come home. Frankly, I'm amazed she survived Harvey's Curse did he let her go, or did he somehow lose her? I asked him and he insinuated the former, though I'm not sure; she's a slippery one and so is he. She doesn't seem to be very happy now she's back. The unpleasantness between her and Henry might be a sticking point, and can only hope she gets over it quickly. Her performance tonight at the bonfire was jaded. If she wants in, and apparently she does, she must give every ounce of herself. They all must. I don't understand why they don't try harder The Hallowe'en show proved they are capable of much more. Yet they slide into mediocrity if they don't have a boot up their backsides. This is not a place in which to hide, to languish: Burfoot's is a circus and we are proud to be different At least, we were. I'm committed to making it so again. Fortunately, Violet understands why she can't speak about the money she brought back, which I fear would dazzle the troupe into even worse habits. Harvey was right to alert me to that possibility. On the other hand, his constant whispering is getting me down. He can't leave anything alone. He says knowledge is power: yes it is, but sometimes it feels so heavy. I wish he'd shut up. I feel like he's in my head. I can't think straight.