Of course we didn’t even begin to stir until almost one o’clock this afternoon.
I was woken up by a dog falling unexpectedly out of bed and thumping on to the carpet, after which we thought that we ought to at least think about making a start on the day.
We sat in bed for ages, maintaining our tranquil coffee moment by occasionally throwing a tennis ball to bounce off the landing wall and roll down the stairs for the dogs to thunder after and fight over. This activity is not without its hazards, obviously, but we think it is a good idea because it involves the dogs not being in our bed, where they bounce about wagging their tails frantically in our coffee and nudging one another out of the way whenever either of them judges that unfair quantities of patting are being showered on the other.
In fact by the time we eventually got up they were both so exhausted from belting up and down the stairs and on and off the bed, that they were quite mellow company when we took them off to be emptied in the Library Gardens. It was a cloudy, damp sort of day, and we might be drawing to the end of the beautiful Indian summer we have been having, which is a bit sad, but which will mean that we have got more time to do all the other things that we like doing, because nobody will come here and get in taxis any more.
We wandered happily around the Library Gardens, breathing in the end-of-summer air and watched the soon-to-be-gone birds wheeling and crying overhead, and felt peaceful, because we have had a successful summer, and very soon we will be lighting the fire and closing the curtains in the evenings.
After that we put olives and cheese and bits of tomato into boxes to take with us and went to work, where we sat on the taxi rank drinking tea and looking at Amazon, and ordering things like almond oil and coconut oil for making soap, which Mark thinks we will be doing in a few weeks once we have got the boiler fixed and some logs cut, and the camper van ready for our exciting holiday trip to France in October.
Sunday always feels very slow and quiet on the taxi rank, particularly after the noisy excitement of Saturday night, with its riot of activity and interesting inebriated customers. There was a minor fight involving some youths and some policemen and the doormen from the local nightclub, and one of my customers had been slapped for pinching the bottom of an off-duty policewoman, and Mark took the local drug dealer home, which is always nice because he is always sober and well-spoken and polite and tips well, it will be a sad day if ever he gets locked up.
My favourite last night was a lady of almost my age, who turned up on the taxi rank wearing nothing but a very small towel and a drunken smirk and collapsed into the back of my taxi.
As it turned out I refused to take her, partly because she was too drunk to be able to tell me where she lived, but mostly, if I am honest, because I could not detect any obvious pockets in the towel, and therefore it seemed rather likely that she was not carrying any money with which to pay her fare. So I chucked her out to continue wandering about the village until eventually one of the Hungarian drivers took pity on her and took her home, where it turned out that somebody who he presumed to be her husband rather crossly wanted to know exactly where she had been, and who was, in the end, prevailed upon to pay the fare. I was glad I hadn’t bothered because it turned out that he was rude and grumpy and didn’t tip.
It was a long and busy night, and almost six in the morning by the time we had cashed up and felt pleased with ourselves and emptied the dogs and collapsed into bed.
It is quite rascally to be just thinking about getting up when everybody else is having lunch, and cheering to know that an undemanding, gentle sort of day lies ahead.
It is nice to be us.
NOTE: The picture is one I took during a taxi journey. It is not a bad way to earn a living.
