Not working last night meant that we could leap out of bed bright and early this morning, and it was brilliant, because the day just went on for ever.
We raced around the house getting things done first. I did the ironing and Mark washed up, and then, rather hastily because we wanted to go out, we made some biscuits. This is because we have run out and biscuits form the stable base for our diet in the summer, like rice or potatoes do for people who have managed to properly organise their lives and do sensible cooking.
The children came and talked to us whilst we did things, but could not be persuaded that they would like to accompany us to the farm. Actually they were entirely adamant that they would not, especially when we suggested that they could help us build the dry stone wall that we didn’t build yesterday.
In the end they stayed at home and Mark and I went. I was sad about this, because I like doing things together, but they are both busy in their own little adventures and so it would not have been kind to insist.
We did not build the wall today either.
There was no excuse for this, because the weather was perfect, sunny and bright with a bit of a cooling breeze.
We should have built the wall, we are guilty of a terrible shirk.
Except that we have become so happy about the camper van now that it is becoming really possible that we will be able to use it soon.
By soon, I mean some time this year, not this week. Just so you know.
We bounced into the workshop excitedly and dragged the massive door open to let the light in.
The dogs charged about barking at imaginary thrilling things and waving their tails.
There are two cuckoos calling to one another in the woods beside the workshop, and a family of blackbirds nesting somewhere in the eaves. We had tea and biscuits and rebuilt the scary scaffolding along the side of the van.
We should have gone to build the wall then, but we didn’t. Somehow I found myself holding a paintbrush, and Mark was measuring a handy looking bit of tin.
He is building a new dashboard. You might remember that we have stripped the cab out completely. The dashboard that was in the van had in any case been built by the van’s long-ago previous owner, a DIY enthusiast whom we have always called Monsieur Banana Fingers. It was made of some crumbling hardboard and glue.
Mark cut a long strip of metal and edged it by bending the edge around a piece of wire to stiffen it. He has fitted it into the cab and added a couple of heater vents harvested from the poor donor taxi lying helplessly in the corner of the workshop. The new dashboard itself has been cut from a piece of pine, and there is a second strip of metal to go in. This will be wrapped in in foam rubber, after which it is to be covered in suede. I expect that people will think we are sophisticated when they see that, what an upmarket cab it will be.
I went on the scaffolding again. Mark kindly made a pile of old wheels next to it so that I could climb up, and I have started painting the other side.
I am beyond excited about this. I have been saving some new and untouched paints for this very moment.
I wobbled around the scaffolding more happily than I can begin to describe, until eventually and regretfully we had to drag ourselves away because of having a living to earn.
When we got home Oliver had invited Harry to stay for the night, and neither child appeared to have noticed our absence especially, so we went off to work with a clear conscience.
Maybe we will build the wall tomorrow. I can see why Donald Trump is struggling to get around to building his, he must be even busier than we are. There is quite enough to do when you are worrying about climate change and war and healthcare without having to start hauling stones all the way along the Mexican border.
I have every sympathy with him.
