January 6^th, 1923

How is it that dozens of expeditions can arrive at the Plateau and we can never find a way out? We met yet another expedition – archaeologists this time. An evil spirit possessed Challenger and it was by a hair’s breadth that we all escaped unharmed and were able to lock up the spirits. We found Summerlee’s hat in a cave. It was his distinctive custom-made pith helmet.  Such a trendy jungle statement!  A sign that our old friend might still be alive? I certainly hope so. We definitely know that he wasn’t in that cave before the fatal fall from the bridge, so we can surmise that he somehow made it out alive that day. But where is he? Why didn’t we find any traces of him? It’s a mystery. One of many on this blasted Plateau.
I’m also still mystified why we forgot to ask the archaeological expedition how they reached the Plateau. Their way up could have been our way down. But I was so preoccupied frowning about the ill-fitting attire of the female expedition member that I didn’t think about asking a simple question in that regard. And a few demonic possessions later they were all dead. Will we ever manage to leave the Lost World? Not at this pace…

January 15^th, 1923

Yesterday we weren’t quite ourselves. Enough said.

January 22^nd, 1923

Who could have guessed that a mud bath in the jungle was so rejuvenating? Marguerite and I were hunting for medicinal herbs when we had a bad encounter with poison ivy. The itch was agonizing, but a mud bath provided the much needed relief. I know very well how beneficial a mud bath can be for the treatment of skin impurities, so I enjoyed it on several levels.

Of course the enjoyment was short-lived, as we then found out that our clothes had been stolen. Running nearly naked through the jungle is not as much fun as one might think, although an enticing glimpse of Marguerite through the shower curtain was some compensation. On top of that inconvenience we were then confronted with yet another failed science experiment by Challenger. He tried to create artificial nourishment and instead ended up poisoning himself. We saved him at the last minute, thanks to Finn’s knowledge about blood transfusions. Challenger promised to be more careful next time, but we all know how much we can count on those kinds of promises.

February 1^st, 1923

Marguerite is Parsifal. The mind reels… 

February 10^th, 1923

I can watch Veronica from where I’m sitting now. She pretends to read a book, but I notice how she hasn’t turned a page for many minutes. No doubt she’s trying to come to terms with all these astonishing revelations. How can you come to terms with the fact that your memories of the past decade have been false? I wish I could help her, but I don’t think she’ll allow it. Where is Malone when you need him? He knows what it means to bury memories that are too painful to cope with.   And that golden dress Veronica described sounds like something you would want to bury in the darkest corner of your minds as soon as possible.

February 28^th, 1923

Saved again from what looked like certain death. A cave-in during an expedition with Challenger seemed destined to mean the end of Marguerite and me. Sometimes the worst turn of fate turns out to bring the best into one’s life. Today she finally told me that she loves me. And not only that… But as a gentleman I won’t say any more. I will just close my eyes and remember those magical moments.

March 2^nd, 1923