Octavius Guy, Esq.
@sendforoctavius.bsky.social
Investigator-in-Chief for the good Mr Mathew Bruff, famed Solicitor at Law of Gray's Inn Square, London.
Sick of being followed around by a certain author I could name but won't.
This is my daily journal.
Sick of being followed around by a certain author I could name but won't.
This is my daily journal.
Wednesday November 15, 1854.
The gullible wide-eyed young chap who let me in beckoned me to sit. His sparsely furnished apartment contained a good many books.
"You are related to Sir John Geeson, sir?" I asked. "I must verify this before we can proceed further."
1/2
The gullible wide-eyed young chap who let me in beckoned me to sit. His sparsely furnished apartment contained a good many books.
"You are related to Sir John Geeson, sir?" I asked. "I must verify this before we can proceed further."
1/2
November 15, 2025 at 7:56 AM
Wednesday November 15, 1854.
The gullible wide-eyed young chap who let me in beckoned me to sit. His sparsely furnished apartment contained a good many books.
"You are related to Sir John Geeson, sir?" I asked. "I must verify this before we can proceed further."
1/2
The gullible wide-eyed young chap who let me in beckoned me to sit. His sparsely furnished apartment contained a good many books.
"You are related to Sir John Geeson, sir?" I asked. "I must verify this before we can proceed further."
1/2
Tuesday November 14, 1854.
"You're back. I thought you would be." Mr Death smiled ghoulishly.
"I need to see Sir John's will, sir."
"I expected you might so I looked it up. He never made one, in which case everything goes to his next of kin."
"Who is...?"
"Pass me down the Debretts."
"You're back. I thought you would be." Mr Death smiled ghoulishly.
"I need to see Sir John's will, sir."
"I expected you might so I looked it up. He never made one, in which case everything goes to his next of kin."
"Who is...?"
"Pass me down the Debretts."
November 14, 2025 at 7:53 AM
Tuesday November 14, 1854.
"You're back. I thought you would be." Mr Death smiled ghoulishly.
"I need to see Sir John's will, sir."
"I expected you might so I looked it up. He never made one, in which case everything goes to his next of kin."
"Who is...?"
"Pass me down the Debretts."
"You're back. I thought you would be." Mr Death smiled ghoulishly.
"I need to see Sir John's will, sir."
"I expected you might so I looked it up. He never made one, in which case everything goes to his next of kin."
"Who is...?"
"Pass me down the Debretts."
Monday November 13, 1854.
"What?" George exclaimed. "You reckon Sir John killed his own wife?"
"And tried to kill me," I added.
Mr Tibbles stretched and let out a yawn.
"George, should I tell Annie about my criminal past?"
"What!" he cried even more vehemently. "No! I forbid it!"
"What?" George exclaimed. "You reckon Sir John killed his own wife?"
"And tried to kill me," I added.
Mr Tibbles stretched and let out a yawn.
"George, should I tell Annie about my criminal past?"
"What!" he cried even more vehemently. "No! I forbid it!"
November 13, 2025 at 7:56 AM
Monday November 13, 1854.
"What?" George exclaimed. "You reckon Sir John killed his own wife?"
"And tried to kill me," I added.
Mr Tibbles stretched and let out a yawn.
"George, should I tell Annie about my criminal past?"
"What!" he cried even more vehemently. "No! I forbid it!"
"What?" George exclaimed. "You reckon Sir John killed his own wife?"
"And tried to kill me," I added.
Mr Tibbles stretched and let out a yawn.
"George, should I tell Annie about my criminal past?"
"What!" he cried even more vehemently. "No! I forbid it!"
Reposted by Octavius Guy, Esq.
Sunday November 12, 1854.
As I watched Annie's face during the service, I imagined her reaction were I to divulge to her the truth about my past.
So many of my correspondents have urged me to come clean, yet I find myself unwilling to do so.
I wondered what George would advise?
As I watched Annie's face during the service, I imagined her reaction were I to divulge to her the truth about my past.
So many of my correspondents have urged me to come clean, yet I find myself unwilling to do so.
I wondered what George would advise?
November 12, 2025 at 7:54 AM
Sunday November 12, 1854.
As I watched Annie's face during the service, I imagined her reaction were I to divulge to her the truth about my past.
So many of my correspondents have urged me to come clean, yet I find myself unwilling to do so.
I wondered what George would advise?
As I watched Annie's face during the service, I imagined her reaction were I to divulge to her the truth about my past.
So many of my correspondents have urged me to come clean, yet I find myself unwilling to do so.
I wondered what George would advise?
Reposted by Octavius Guy, Esq.
Saturday November 11 1854.
As I ploughed my way through my breakfast kipper, I considered what I had learned from Mr Death.
Sir John had married Lady Geeson for her money, unaware that the bulk of it was entailed in an unbreakable trust. Only on her death would he inherit.
Hmmm...
As I ploughed my way through my breakfast kipper, I considered what I had learned from Mr Death.
Sir John had married Lady Geeson for her money, unaware that the bulk of it was entailed in an unbreakable trust. Only on her death would he inherit.
Hmmm...
November 11, 2025 at 7:55 AM
Saturday November 11 1854.
As I ploughed my way through my breakfast kipper, I considered what I had learned from Mr Death.
Sir John had married Lady Geeson for her money, unaware that the bulk of it was entailed in an unbreakable trust. Only on her death would he inherit.
Hmmm...
As I ploughed my way through my breakfast kipper, I considered what I had learned from Mr Death.
Sir John had married Lady Geeson for her money, unaware that the bulk of it was entailed in an unbreakable trust. Only on her death would he inherit.
Hmmm...
Friday November 10, 1854.
"Upon my word! If it isn't Mr Guy!"
Mr Death, the clerk at the will office of Doctors' Commons, beckoned me into his cubbyhole.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, pray tell?"
"Sir, I have come to consult a will," I replied, "that of the late Lady Geeson."
"Upon my word! If it isn't Mr Guy!"
Mr Death, the clerk at the will office of Doctors' Commons, beckoned me into his cubbyhole.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, pray tell?"
"Sir, I have come to consult a will," I replied, "that of the late Lady Geeson."
November 10, 2025 at 7:56 AM
Friday November 10, 1854.
"Upon my word! If it isn't Mr Guy!"
Mr Death, the clerk at the will office of Doctors' Commons, beckoned me into his cubbyhole.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, pray tell?"
"Sir, I have come to consult a will," I replied, "that of the late Lady Geeson."
"Upon my word! If it isn't Mr Guy!"
Mr Death, the clerk at the will office of Doctors' Commons, beckoned me into his cubbyhole.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, pray tell?"
"Sir, I have come to consult a will," I replied, "that of the late Lady Geeson."
Thursday November 9, 1854.
I smelled the cigar smoke as I approached the stairs to Mr Bruff's office, redolent with the smell of vanilla. Cautiously I followed the aroma.
I found my employer alone amid a thick fug of fumes.
"Was Sir John Geeson just here?" I asked.
I smelled the cigar smoke as I approached the stairs to Mr Bruff's office, redolent with the smell of vanilla. Cautiously I followed the aroma.
I found my employer alone amid a thick fug of fumes.
"Was Sir John Geeson just here?" I asked.
November 9, 2025 at 7:57 AM
Thursday November 9, 1854.
I smelled the cigar smoke as I approached the stairs to Mr Bruff's office, redolent with the smell of vanilla. Cautiously I followed the aroma.
I found my employer alone amid a thick fug of fumes.
"Was Sir John Geeson just here?" I asked.
I smelled the cigar smoke as I approached the stairs to Mr Bruff's office, redolent with the smell of vanilla. Cautiously I followed the aroma.
I found my employer alone amid a thick fug of fumes.
"Was Sir John Geeson just here?" I asked.
Wednesday November 8, 1854.
"I'm confused," said George. "If it wasn't the escaped prisoners who attacked you, then who was it?"
"An intriguing question, my good friend. Whoever it was smelled of vanilla."
"Vanilla? Like in cakes?"
"Or cigars, George..."
"I'm confused," said George. "If it wasn't the escaped prisoners who attacked you, then who was it?"
"An intriguing question, my good friend. Whoever it was smelled of vanilla."
"Vanilla? Like in cakes?"
"Or cigars, George..."
November 8, 2025 at 7:52 AM
Wednesday November 8, 1854.
"I'm confused," said George. "If it wasn't the escaped prisoners who attacked you, then who was it?"
"An intriguing question, my good friend. Whoever it was smelled of vanilla."
"Vanilla? Like in cakes?"
"Or cigars, George..."
"I'm confused," said George. "If it wasn't the escaped prisoners who attacked you, then who was it?"
"An intriguing question, my good friend. Whoever it was smelled of vanilla."
"Vanilla? Like in cakes?"
"Or cigars, George..."
Tuesday November 7, 1854.
We heard shouts from the outer office, the loudest of which by far was a deep bass voice booming, "Get out of me bleedin' way!"
Mr Tibbles jumped up in alarm as the door burst open and in strode Bertha.
"I got me another blasted lettah," she wailed.
1/2
We heard shouts from the outer office, the loudest of which by far was a deep bass voice booming, "Get out of me bleedin' way!"
Mr Tibbles jumped up in alarm as the door burst open and in strode Bertha.
"I got me another blasted lettah," she wailed.
1/2
November 7, 2025 at 7:54 AM
Tuesday November 7, 1854.
We heard shouts from the outer office, the loudest of which by far was a deep bass voice booming, "Get out of me bleedin' way!"
Mr Tibbles jumped up in alarm as the door burst open and in strode Bertha.
"I got me another blasted lettah," she wailed.
1/2
We heard shouts from the outer office, the loudest of which by far was a deep bass voice booming, "Get out of me bleedin' way!"
Mr Tibbles jumped up in alarm as the door burst open and in strode Bertha.
"I got me another blasted lettah," she wailed.
1/2
Monday November 6, 1854.
"George, I've been thinking," I said. "Perhaps your diary doesn't work in quite the same way mine does."
Mr Tibbles threw me a filthy look that I feared would give the game away.
"If that's the case," I continued, "you could copy your important entries into my diary."
"George, I've been thinking," I said. "Perhaps your diary doesn't work in quite the same way mine does."
Mr Tibbles threw me a filthy look that I feared would give the game away.
"If that's the case," I continued, "you could copy your important entries into my diary."
November 6, 2025 at 8:01 AM
Monday November 6, 1854.
"George, I've been thinking," I said. "Perhaps your diary doesn't work in quite the same way mine does."
Mr Tibbles threw me a filthy look that I feared would give the game away.
"If that's the case," I continued, "you could copy your important entries into my diary."
"George, I've been thinking," I said. "Perhaps your diary doesn't work in quite the same way mine does."
Mr Tibbles threw me a filthy look that I feared would give the game away.
"If that's the case," I continued, "you could copy your important entries into my diary."
Reposted by Octavius Guy, Esq.
You’ve brought us great pleasure with Octopus’ daily diaries, Michael. Now give yourself a well-earned rest. Your efforts are truly appreciated 🤩📚
November 5, 2025 at 1:07 PM
You’ve brought us great pleasure with Octopus’ daily diaries, Michael. Now give yourself a well-earned rest. Your efforts are truly appreciated 🤩📚
Reposted by Octavius Guy, Esq.
You better tell her yourself. Keeping secrets from the woman you love (and who clearly has a very soft spot for you too) is never a good basis for a relationship. Better sooner than later. She might be disappointed and even angry but I believe she will forgive.
November 5, 2025 at 8:43 AM
You better tell her yourself. Keeping secrets from the woman you love (and who clearly has a very soft spot for you too) is never a good basis for a relationship. Better sooner than later. She might be disappointed and even angry but I believe she will forgive.
Sunday November 5, 1854.
"I'm still furious he wouldn't take me to see you," said Annie as we chatted after the service.
I knew the dilemma George had faced from reading his diary entries, and was indebted for the stand he had taken. What if Annie found out about my criminal past?
"I'm still furious he wouldn't take me to see you," said Annie as we chatted after the service.
I knew the dilemma George had faced from reading his diary entries, and was indebted for the stand he had taken. What if Annie found out about my criminal past?
November 5, 2025 at 7:50 AM
Sunday November 5, 1854.
"I'm still furious he wouldn't take me to see you," said Annie as we chatted after the service.
I knew the dilemma George had faced from reading his diary entries, and was indebted for the stand he had taken. What if Annie found out about my criminal past?
"I'm still furious he wouldn't take me to see you," said Annie as we chatted after the service.
I knew the dilemma George had faced from reading his diary entries, and was indebted for the stand he had taken. What if Annie found out about my criminal past?
Reposted by Octavius Guy, Esq.
Sad news.
Though there are other stories I would have loved to have brought you (The Fall from a Hot Air Balloon for one), when this story that started with the pigeons runs its course I'm done.
It's hard enough (if not impossible) to retrieve what I wrote on the dead bird site.
I'm sorry.
Though there are other stories I would have loved to have brought you (The Fall from a Hot Air Balloon for one), when this story that started with the pigeons runs its course I'm done.
It's hard enough (if not impossible) to retrieve what I wrote on the dead bird site.
I'm sorry.
November 4, 2025 at 9:57 AM
Sad news.
Though there are other stories I would have loved to have brought you (The Fall from a Hot Air Balloon for one), when this story that started with the pigeons runs its course I'm done.
It's hard enough (if not impossible) to retrieve what I wrote on the dead bird site.
I'm sorry.
Though there are other stories I would have loved to have brought you (The Fall from a Hot Air Balloon for one), when this story that started with the pigeons runs its course I'm done.
It's hard enough (if not impossible) to retrieve what I wrote on the dead bird site.
I'm sorry.
Reposted by Octavius Guy, Esq.
Intriguing detail.
November 4, 2025 at 8:02 AM
Intriguing detail.
Saturday November 4, 1854.
Home at last. A detail I'd forgotten about my recent attack suddenly came to me as I devoured my breakfast kipper.
It was a smell. Vanilla, such as Mrs Grogan might employ in her best cakes, but somehow more earthy.
I smelled it before I was struck down.
Home at last. A detail I'd forgotten about my recent attack suddenly came to me as I devoured my breakfast kipper.
It was a smell. Vanilla, such as Mrs Grogan might employ in her best cakes, but somehow more earthy.
I smelled it before I was struck down.
November 4, 2025 at 7:54 AM
Saturday November 4, 1854.
Home at last. A detail I'd forgotten about my recent attack suddenly came to me as I devoured my breakfast kipper.
It was a smell. Vanilla, such as Mrs Grogan might employ in her best cakes, but somehow more earthy.
I smelled it before I was struck down.
Home at last. A detail I'd forgotten about my recent attack suddenly came to me as I devoured my breakfast kipper.
It was a smell. Vanilla, such as Mrs Grogan might employ in her best cakes, but somehow more earthy.
I smelled it before I was struck down.
Reposted by Octavius Guy, Esq.
Skyblue service, young Sir? Is that similar to a town crier?
November 3, 2025 at 8:01 AM
Skyblue service, young Sir? Is that similar to a town crier?
Friday November 3, 1854.
I made the mistake of asking George how his diary keeping was going.
"I wrote about how Mary burned the sausages yesterday," he told me. "I thought people might sympathize, but they didn't."
Dare I tell him about the Skyblue service I employ? Hmmm...
I made the mistake of asking George how his diary keeping was going.
"I wrote about how Mary burned the sausages yesterday," he told me. "I thought people might sympathize, but they didn't."
Dare I tell him about the Skyblue service I employ? Hmmm...
November 3, 2025 at 7:54 AM
Friday November 3, 1854.
I made the mistake of asking George how his diary keeping was going.
"I wrote about how Mary burned the sausages yesterday," he told me. "I thought people might sympathize, but they didn't."
Dare I tell him about the Skyblue service I employ? Hmmm...
I made the mistake of asking George how his diary keeping was going.
"I wrote about how Mary burned the sausages yesterday," he told me. "I thought people might sympathize, but they didn't."
Dare I tell him about the Skyblue service I employ? Hmmm...
Thursday November 2, 1854.
I heard a dreadful commotion in the outer office just as the door burst open and in sailed Bertha in her widow's weeds.
"I got sent a lettah...a bleedin' lettah!" she wailed. "Gawd, me 'eart nearly stopped! Oo's it from?" she demanded to know.
1/2
I heard a dreadful commotion in the outer office just as the door burst open and in sailed Bertha in her widow's weeds.
"I got sent a lettah...a bleedin' lettah!" she wailed. "Gawd, me 'eart nearly stopped! Oo's it from?" she demanded to know.
1/2
November 2, 2025 at 8:04 AM
Thursday November 2, 1854.
I heard a dreadful commotion in the outer office just as the door burst open and in sailed Bertha in her widow's weeds.
"I got sent a lettah...a bleedin' lettah!" she wailed. "Gawd, me 'eart nearly stopped! Oo's it from?" she demanded to know.
1/2
I heard a dreadful commotion in the outer office just as the door burst open and in sailed Bertha in her widow's weeds.
"I got sent a lettah...a bleedin' lettah!" she wailed. "Gawd, me 'eart nearly stopped! Oo's it from?" she demanded to know.
1/2
Wednesday November 1, 1854.
George seemed touched when I presented him with the diary.
"What will I write in it?" he asked.
"Whatever takes your fancy," said I.
"So if I talk about me breakfast or supper, people will see it and like it?"
Not if you don't open a Skyblue account, I ruminated!
George seemed touched when I presented him with the diary.
"What will I write in it?" he asked.
"Whatever takes your fancy," said I.
"So if I talk about me breakfast or supper, people will see it and like it?"
Not if you don't open a Skyblue account, I ruminated!
November 1, 2025 at 7:57 AM
Wednesday November 1, 1854.
George seemed touched when I presented him with the diary.
"What will I write in it?" he asked.
"Whatever takes your fancy," said I.
"So if I talk about me breakfast or supper, people will see it and like it?"
Not if you don't open a Skyblue account, I ruminated!
George seemed touched when I presented him with the diary.
"What will I write in it?" he asked.
"Whatever takes your fancy," said I.
"So if I talk about me breakfast or supper, people will see it and like it?"
Not if you don't open a Skyblue account, I ruminated!
Reposted by Octavius Guy, Esq.
Tuesday October 31, 1854.
Yesterday, after going on for hours about how he should have been the one to go to Scotland, George began hinting that we should take turns writing in MY diary.
I dropped into the stationer's on my way home and chose a nice one in brown leather for him.
Yesterday, after going on for hours about how he should have been the one to go to Scotland, George began hinting that we should take turns writing in MY diary.
I dropped into the stationer's on my way home and chose a nice one in brown leather for him.
October 31, 2025 at 7:54 AM
Tuesday October 31, 1854.
Yesterday, after going on for hours about how he should have been the one to go to Scotland, George began hinting that we should take turns writing in MY diary.
I dropped into the stationer's on my way home and chose a nice one in brown leather for him.
Yesterday, after going on for hours about how he should have been the one to go to Scotland, George began hinting that we should take turns writing in MY diary.
I dropped into the stationer's on my way home and chose a nice one in brown leather for him.
Monday October 30, 1854.
My return to the office was met warmly by Mr Tibbles, who deigned to let me pet him with my good arm.
I told George about yesterday's visitor.
"Bertha's sent Alex and Charley on a train up to Scotland to find them," I added.
"Wish she'd sent me," he muttered.
My return to the office was met warmly by Mr Tibbles, who deigned to let me pet him with my good arm.
I told George about yesterday's visitor.
"Bertha's sent Alex and Charley on a train up to Scotland to find them," I added.
"Wish she'd sent me," he muttered.
October 30, 2025 at 7:49 AM
Monday October 30, 1854.
My return to the office was met warmly by Mr Tibbles, who deigned to let me pet him with my good arm.
I told George about yesterday's visitor.
"Bertha's sent Alex and Charley on a train up to Scotland to find them," I added.
"Wish she'd sent me," he muttered.
My return to the office was met warmly by Mr Tibbles, who deigned to let me pet him with my good arm.
I told George about yesterday's visitor.
"Bertha's sent Alex and Charley on a train up to Scotland to find them," I added.
"Wish she'd sent me," he muttered.