I woke up this morning with a horrible headache. The light was too bright and my neck hurt and I felt very sorry for myself. Mark very kindly went to work on my behalf, it is very useful to have the sort of job where you can do that. I crawled back into bed to wallow in self pity until the drugs started to work, it seemed very unfair to have the unhappiness of a headache which had not been preceded by the pleasures of drunkenness and debauchery.
The dog had his walk with Mark before he left, but nevertheless he was very worried about this departure from the normal run of events, and when Mark went off to work he came bounding back up the stairs, having clearly decided that I needed looking after, and since Mark had inexplicably vanished then he was the man for the job.
He obligingly did this to the absolute best of his faithful abilities by stationing himself determinedly at the end of the bed and keeping up a constant low, rumbling growl, and then barking an alarming warning every time he heard footsteps or voices or a car coming down the road. This was quite often, since it was Windermere’s version of rush hour, and everybody was trying to dash about getting to work or the children to school.
Obviously it worked absolutely brilliantly, because to his evident satisfaction, nobody tried to break in or beat us up or anything. I was very grateful, but after a fairly short while of being lovingly protected by the dog in my Hour of Need I had had enough of it and got up.
I was self-pitying and idle in my dressing gown for a while then. The dog tagged along anxiously at my feet and I sat at my desk and tried to distract myself with Facebook trivia and answering e-mails, but the light from the screen hurt my eyes and Oliver wanted his breakfast, so I got dressed instead, and discovered when I got downstairs that Mark had thoughtfully made Oliver’s breakfast and left it on a plate covered in cling film, so I handed it over and just set about the grim wait until the drugs made me feel better, which of course eventually they did, and by the time Mark got back half an hour later I was feeling much more cheerful.
Once the drugs had started to work it was a lovely day, despite the headache. We went up to Booths and bought nice things like olive bread and soft cheese to have for dinner, and a lot of sadly drooping roses which they had reduced in price to almost nothing. We bought loads of them for two pounds and bashed the stems and revived them when we got home with lots of boiling water and sugar, and they recovered really bravely, and now they are looking bright and glad in jugs all over the house. Mark built a new flower bed, and I did some more of Oliver’s packing and went to the bank and then went to work.
There were quite a few taxis out today. The sunshine was warm, and a little breeze tagged down the lake, making sparkling ripples on the water. We were unanimous in agreeing that we must work on possibly the nicest taxi rank in the entire world. It is right next to the pier, and you can look out across the lake and all the way down to the Langdales in the distance.
We watch the tourists being excited about the swans, who in their turn are doing their best to extort chips or sandwiches or bits of pie. They are pretty successful at this, and hence quite threateningly determined, and most people give in quite quickly and pretend that they aren’t scared, but we all know that they are. They don’t beg from the taxi drivers or the boatmen, but if you are Japanese and gentle you might as well just hand over your entire lunch straight away.
We can see the smaller boats determinedly tacking up and down, and the great steamers chugging up to Newby Bridge to meet the steam train, or to Ambleside for people to walk in the fells. About ten minutes after the last boat has left is always a good time for customers, because there is usually somebody who has missed it, and who needs to be taken all the way back round the lake to their car. I sat peacefully so as not to disturb my headache too much, and waited, and looked at the view, and read my book, and Richard sympathised with the headache, and told me stories about the wedding he went to on Saturday, from which he still had a hangover headache of his own.
By the time it was evening and time to change places with Mark I was much revived and my own headache had faded to a quiet whisper, and by now it is almost gone.
I am going to go and have some last drugs and a hot shower and I am quite sure that by tomorrow morning it will be just a memory.
