I think, mostly, probably, we are packed.
I have spent today trying to make sure that we are.
Mark buzzed off to the farm to finish inventing things to go in the travelling kitchen, and now we really will be cooking on gas. This is very exciting.
I have been productively making very useful things. I have made some travelling hand wipes with boiled water and lavender and TCP and coconut oil. I don’t like the ones that you buy because they cost £1.95 and don’t get your hands clean anyway. After that I mixed more wood ash cream because it actually works surprisingly well and Mark wanted some more to take with him. It will look splendid worn with shorts in the smart hotel.
The one small disadvantage to going on holiday for such a long time is that we are taking all of our clothes with us, and as a result have got almost nothing left to wear except the things that are hideously scruffy or that we just simply don’t like wearing.
The misfortunate consequence of this was that when I took Oliver to the dentist today he had to wear a curry-stained T-shirt, some sawn off shorts that he has had for years and that have become ridiculously short in proportion to his legs, his school shoes and socks and a coat because it was so cold.
I am at work in a short sleeved jumper with holes in, over the top of a long sleeved T-shirt, knee length shorts and fur boots with long socks an attempt to keep warm. I don’t mind telling you that I look so ridiculous I have got no intention of getting out of the taxi.
Mark has not fared so badly, because he is quite fussy about clothes, and has got some trousers which he never wears just because he doesn’t like the cut. He is wearing these with a paint-splattered yellow T-shirt which says Florida on the front. He put up with wearing his emergency underpants all day and finally decided they were so uncomfortable he would rather do without, so I hope he doesn’t get run over or anything.
Lucy is coming home tomorrow. Mark is going to go and get her, which is an absolute relief, because it means that I can carry on getting tidy and organised. I would like to leave the house a little less dusty than it is at the moment, and this is my project for tomorrow, since most of our stuff is packed.
I think it is important to come home to a clean bathroom after you have been on holiday. If everything is gleaming and lovely then it is happy to be back at home instead of suddenly feeling that your real life is a bit seedy and grubby and not as nice as the beautiful shiny hotel you have just left.
Also when we get back it will be Easter and we will just have to work and work and work until we have made enough money for the school fees and the mortgage and the credit card. Life is going to become a bit dull, and will mostly be taking place on the taxi rank. This will be fine. It could be an awful lot worse, imagine having to earn a living by being something dreadful like a teacher or a road mender or a prison officer in Broadmoor.
Fortunately that is in another life, ages in the future. We will worry about it when we get there.
In the meantime, the weather forecast for Paris is fantastic, and we have got our shorts packed.
We go the day after tomorrow.
I am so excited I can hardly sit still.
I have provided a picture of my packing, so that you can feel part of the adventure as well.
