Intrepids

No word from the Intrepids before I set off for work this afternoon, although I saw my brother-in-law outside the chemist’s and he said that everything had been quiet round their tent this morning, but that he was fairly sure they weren’t dead, and then laughed a lot.

I got on with my quiet life quite contentedly once I had been thus reassured, which was splendid. I washed the sheets and pegged them on the line to dry in the sun and the breeze, which is always one of my nicest things, they smell so fresh and look beautifully white, it is a small joy to do and then another small joy to get into bed at the end of the day and smell the outdoors, in a nice safe, warm indoor sort of way.

I had a little walk round the village to get Oliver a new nail brush for school, as his has vanished, unlikely to be worn out, I suspect, and more likely abandoned indifferently for Matron to find stuck under the pipes during the holidays, but it was a nice morning, and I needed some tape for sewing hanging loops into his clothes, and a puzzle book to hide in his bag as a surprise, so I had a stroll around the shops and caught up with everybody’s news and local gossip. This was a pleasant start to the day, and because the weather was so very cheering I thought I would do something outdoors, in a spirit of solidarity with my menfolk, and moved all my little seeds outside into the garden to start toughening up ready to be released into the wild.

This is really exciting, they are doing very well. Star performers are the runner beans, who could be expecting Jack at any time now, they are tall and leafy and stout. My garden canes arrived this morning, and I am still pondering about the best site for a wigwam of runner beans, given that the garden is only about three metres wide and is fairly fully occupied already. I am sure I will think of something but I actually haven’t done yet.

Work after that, and more sewing on the taxi rank. Hot topic of the day was Paul’s medical difficulties Down There, which have turned out not to be anything fatal, much to all our relief, and the nurse was very politely admiring of his willie, so he was feeling very cheerful, and at teatime I got a job which took me out to Crook so on my way back I stopped off at the farm to see how the Intrepids were getting on.

They reminded me very much of a cold British springtime version of Baloo and Mowgli, actually. Mark seems to have done an extraordinary amount of beard growing overnight, and Oliver is covered in freckles and seems to have more elbows and knees than ever. Certainly they have not starved, and the fire was bright and the little kettle was boiling away merrily at one side of it. They have found a skull from a dead sheep, and have mounted it on a post outside their tent, in a rather ghoulish spirit of ornamentation. They were happy and a bit smelly, and enthusiastically showed me a bow and arrow that they have manufactured, complete with feathers at the end of the arrow, attached with candle wax and looking every bit as though it  might mean deadly peril for a rabbit. Mark said that they hadn’t actually found any rabbits, though, and so he thought they might have chicken nuggets for dinner.

They had been joined by Mark’s nephew, and he and Oliver were busy setting up an unlikely looking rabbit trap, and Mark said they have been visited by passing amused walkers on and off all day. The dog was tied to the tent post, because he has fallen in love with a lady dog at the farm, and has become a bit of a stalker, and Mark’s sister says that he is too short and ugly to contemplate an arranged marriage, which is a bit sad, especially for the dog. I quite like the idea of short ugly puppies, but I suppose I would go off them after they had weed on the carpet a couple of times.

I bade them both a cheerful farewell, and noted with mild surprise that I was a bit wistful about leaving them behind, although not because I liked the idea of camping in any way, shape or form, merely because it is a bit quiet at home without them. I cheered myself up with a trip to the Holistic WellPerson PamperMe Spa, to encourage the endorphins to sort it out.

I have regretfully replaced the finally-worn-out Chanel No 5 soap with some Penhaligon’s Bluebell, in a spirit of economy, and because I do like it very much and it is an absolute bargain at only £15 a bar, so I hardly feel deprived at all, and I had an ace swim and boiling shower, and squirted some bluebell perfume on afterwards, to go with the soap, and now am smelling very floral and seasonal in my taxi.

Not as seasonal as they are, though.