I have had the very pleasing experience today of discovering that our mobile phone company is so desperate for the pleasure of our custom that they are offering us every imaginable incentive not to go away. So far for sixteen pounds a month they are offering us twenty gigabytes of data, unlimited texts and calls, a thing to boost signal in the house and free television.
I have told them I will think about it. In fact I think I will go back to the other mobile phone company who were offering the first cheap deal and see if they can come up with something better.
Our mortgage company has been rather less enthusiastic. They said, with the sort of logic that only banks could dream up, that they could do us a cheaper deal but would want to see detailed evidence of our income over the past three years to see if we could afford it. This is more than even the new mortgage company has asked for, and I think amounts to a metaphorical French shrug.
I spent some time faffing about with that this morning, and then it was time to get Oliver scrubbed and polished and ready for school. He had his riding lesson, and then Mark said that he was looking rather like a Shetland pony himself, and gave him a tenner and dispatched him to the barber.
I cleaned his shoes and he showered, and all too soon it was time to go. He was jolly brave really, because he absolutely hates saying goodbye. As it happened the moment was lightened by all of us noticing that Lucy has grown a large spot on her nose. We all tried to get a closer look, so she had to kiss Oliver goodbye with her hand over her nose, like polar bear trying to hide in the snow.
It was a lovely drive over, because of the sunshine and also because the gypsies have started to arrive for the horse fair again, and the verges all along the sides of the high fell road are lined with tethered horses and caravans and vardoes, and gypsies gathered around smoky campfires.
I think this is really exciting, and tried to interest Oliver, but he was not especially interested in the romance of kicking off his high heeled shoon, and said he was jolly glad he wasn’t a gypsy, and anyway some of them looked a bit scary.
This was undoubtedly true, and as we came through the little town we noticed several cars with patient policemen, conveniently parked in order to keep a fairly close eye on the noisy groups of gypsy men who were spilling cheerfully out of the pubs.
They ambled in peaceable intoxication back along the roadside, looking weatherbeaten and happy, whilst young men harnessed horses to the lightweight sulkies that they race at the Fair, already showing off who was fastest and best-turned out.
There were no women or girls anywhere, only men, in waistcoats and caps and shirts and boots, the girls come out at the Fair, beautiful and brilliantly coloured. I asked Mark when I got home if we could go and see it again, because I love the caravans and the horses and the colours and the smells: and I would like to buy some china for the camper van. He thought maybe we could, which will be ace, I shall keep you posted.
I said goodbye to Oliver at school, which is always dreadful, he hates goodbyes and so I never like to say them. Once he is at school he is fine, but the actual moment of the last hug and then parting is completely ghastly.
He was being brave today, and had decided that he would find something nice to do as soon as I had gone so that he wouldn’t mind. We said Three Two One and then shut our eyes and turned in our opposite directions, and I left him. He has got his phone card and I told him that he must call me this evening if he felt sad, but in fact he hasn’t so I suppose he is probably all right after all and it is just me.
I miss them when they are gone, they are the best company in the world.
Not long until the summer now.
