This entry is going to be short because there isn’t very much of interest to be said about a day in which what I have done is firstly got ready for work, and then gone to work.
I am at work now. I am late starting to write this because all of the daylight working hours have been occupied with sewing name labels in pyjamas and socks, because once again it is That Time Of Year.
This has been quite pleasant because the sun is shining and there have been some interesting programmes on the radio, and it is very nice indeed to feel that I am virtuous in every way. Mark volunteered to help and sew some on as well, but I declined in case Matron saw them and thought that I had done it.
Obviously I have been working as well. I have told several grumpy Arabs that in the UK children count as people when they are in a taxi, and that my licence to carry four people does not mean that I can take four adults and then put three children on the floor. Number Two Daughter says that this is not a problem in the Middle East but I do not think our licensing officer would be at all pleased.
In any case not a small number of Middle Eastern visitors are not at all comfortable about getting in with a female driver. I approach this sensitive cultural issue by regarding it as entirely not my problem, and they can always walk.
We didn’t actually get to work until almost four o’clock, which was not bad because the target time was three. In fact that didn’t happen because of Roger Poopy and Harry Poopy The Chosen One managing to surmount the impossible stair barricade again at about eight o’ clock this morning. We were woken up by them wuffing enthusiastically and hurling themselves at the side of the bed with little thuds, in a futile attempt to reach us.
Mark lifted them up and they were ecstatic with delight that we were all together again, and bit our ears and noses joyfully until we were properly awake. Then they bounced up and down the bed making happy little squeaky noises until Mark said some rude words and went to make coffee.
They helped as much as they could with the day’s activities, digging up the flower beds and then climbing into the washing basket with muddy paws whilst I was hanging out washing. After that they all fell asleep in a big poopy pile right in the middle of the kitchen whilst I was trying to get everybody’s dinners ready, and I had to be really careful not to stand on them whilst I was getting things in and out of the oven.
In the end of course we had got to go back to sleep, because it is not a sensible idea to get up at eight o’clock and then stay up all the way through until five in the morning, certainly when you get past twenty years old. Number Two Daughter stayed in the kitchen and did some cooking and supervised the poopies whilst we went back to bed.
We could have slept for ages, when the alarm went off it took a considerable effort not just to switch it off and stay where we were, but of course we didn’t. We fed the children and went out to join the endless stream of traffic arriving in Windermere for the holiday weekend.
Not to worry.
By the end of the weekend we should have made enough to pay the overdraft.
