We have had the loveliest day.
We woke up in the lay by just along the road from Lucy’s school, where we had finally arrived at about half past two in the morning. The alarm went off at eight, which wasn’t at all a bad sort of sleep to have, and then there was no rush at all, because we were almost there and had got plenty of time. We had a peaceful coffee in bed and then put our smart clothes on, the ones we wear when we are trying to look convincingly middle class. We have got better at this as we have got older.
We met Nan and Grandad in the front of the chapel at school. Lucy’s school chapel is on two levels, downstairs where the girls sit and a sloping dress circle where parents sit, discreetly comparing everybody’s designer labels and trying to pick out their daughter from the rows of identical teenagers below.
Grandad spotted Lucy first, I had got to look twice to make sure it was her, because it is hard to be certain, they all wear kilts and blazers and blonde ponytails and I had not brought my glasses. Once I was convinced I bounced about and waved until she saw me and was suitably embarrassed, then we settled down to enjoy the carol service.
It was brilliant. Both children’s schools do music really well, and this was lovely. Mark and I both closed our eyes and let ourselves be carried away on the wave of beautiful melodic singing. Everybody was dying to clap the fantastic choirs and thundering organ, but of course we couldn’t because it was chapel and you are not supposed to, so we gasped and sighed and thought how lucky we were that people had made such beautiful music for us.
Afterwards we captured a grinning Lucy from amongst the crowd of matching teenagers and when we had filled the camper with her bags and trunks and tuck boxes we reconvened at the pub for lunch, which included a large glass of wine and pudding, and was all so very splendid that Mark and I had to have a little snooze in the camper van afterwards before we set off for home.
This turned out to have caused a near-disaster, because whilst we were asleep the heavy rain had turned itself into snow and all the roads were closed.
In the end we decided that we would have a go at the little road that winds across the heart of the Dales, through Aysgarth and Wensleydale and Hawes, and arrives in Cumbria at Sedbergh, and this turned into something of an adventure.
The road runs between the high fells, huge and dark on either side, across tiny bridges and through some of the most desolate countryside imaginable. It was narrow with fallen snow, some places had been ploughed, others were still white: and all the time the skies were clearing and there was the dreadful anxiety that everywhere would freeze before we could get through, and become too slippery to travel.
It didn’t, just, and by the time we got to Sedbergh the snow was behind us, and we chugged down into Kendal under starlit skies, just as the road was starting to glitter with ice.
Once we got back Lucy and I unloaded the camper and sorted out the washing. She admired the Christmas decorations and the dogs charged about barking and being happy to be home. Mark put his old greatcoat on and dashed straight outside in the dark to lie on the frosty ground underneath my taxi, which you might remember had had a fan belt misfortune and needed an emergency repair. He bashed about and swore for a while, but by the time we were unpacked and starting to be fairly tidy he had finished, and I rushed over to the garage to get some fuel before it closed.
In the end we didn’t get to work until almost eleven, which was tiresome but I suppose inevitable, sometimes life just flies past without our noticing properly, I don’t quite know where all of the day went to.
It has been a lovely day. It feels as though Christmas is almost here. It was an ace concert and a brilliant lunch and we are so happy to have Lucy home again.
Oliver on Wednesday.
