Mark has built a puppy Colditz to preserve the carpets.
It is a big cardboard box with a tunnel and things to climb on, and although they don’t seem to like it quite as much as the carpet I have been heartless, because of the carpet being the sort with a hessian back and a nought on the end of the price per metre.
He constructed this whilst I made picnics, and we all headed out to work, except Oliver who went to the park.
It is now late on Sunday night, and we are all still here, because of having spent Wednesday night’s takings in the cinema and hence have prematurely run out of cash.
Also I am trying to persude Mark to buy some new seats for the cab of the camper, there are two swivel ones which I like the look of very much. I know that we will only be able to swivel round a little tiny bit, and just be able to look at one another because there is a wardrobe behind my seat, but I think they are beautiful and would be nice to have.
Number Two Daughter is investigating buying her own camper van. She thinks it would be nice to live in one when she goes to Canada, so she is looking on a thing called Craigslist, which is a sort of foreign eBay, and she has actually managed to find a camper van which is even older than ours, being from 1977. She is trying to persuade the owners to sell it to her and keep it in their shed until she arrives there in October: which they might.
I think living in a camper van would be an ace idea, what a huge adventure to go off and be completely independent on another continent, and I have promised that if she buys it I will make her some curtains and post them to her. We think it is brilliant and are nearly as excited about it as she is. We are so proud of the children, how very brave they have turned out to be.
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Time has bypassed me somehow, and now it is the small hours of the morning, and I am finishing this at home: in rather abbreviated fashion because of lack of noteworthy events and also desperate longing for sleep.
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Talking of brave, Oliver cooked his own dinner this evening. Usually Lucy does it, but tonight I had left a new sort of pizza for them, and he didn’t like it: so with enormous courage he put one of the sort that he does like – ham and cheese, nothing exciting – into the oven, set the timer and got it out ten minutes later when it was cooked.
He was so proud of this achievement he wanted to cook everybody pizza for dinner, which we declined, since it was midnight, and Mark having already hoovered up the first rejected pizza. I have promised that tomorrow I will show him how to do burgers, waffles and fish fingers, after which he will be able to live completely independently.
When we got home we discovered that some of the more independent puppies had mountaineered their way out of their impregnable prison, by watching closely for a more placid sibling to drop asleep at the side of the wall and then using them as a sort of squishy protesting stepladder.
So it looks as though that might be the end of that, thank goodness they will all be going back to the farm tomorrow and the working weekend is over.
It is always a relief.
