Dear everybody,
I am writing this before I finally collapse into oblivion.
The bank holiday is over and I confess that I have spent today alternately sleeping and milling around the house yawning.
It is ten o’ clock, and already I am showered and in my dressing gown. I can hardly keep my eyes open.
We have finished chasing about the Lake District with bank holiday customers, and although we had to get up today in order to ensure that the dogs were emptied, I can promise you that had it not been for that then we would have missed today altogether.
We thought that we had worked for fifty hours over the last four days. This is not especially arduous since it is in a taxi, which is about the least labour-intensive employment imaginable. Despite this it has left us weary and longing for sleep, which is exactly what I have done today.
I have done this more than Mark.
Mark went off to the farm with at the dogs and his friend John, to move some motorbikes about and contemplate engines. This is pleasing but not wearisome.
I stayed here and slept.
Once upon a time I did not sleep when Mark was busy, because of guilt. When we went to bed I would be cross about any suggestions other than sleep.
It took ages before we realised that I simply needed more sleep than Mark does.
This was a revelation.
Now if I want to sleep I just go and do it, which was what I did today.
After that I pottered around the garden planting seeds and filling hanging baskets until Mark came home.
The sun was still shining, and it was warm.
We sat in our rocking chairs on the lawn and drank wine. It took less than fifteen minutes before we realised that if we did not go out for dinner we would have to crawl into bed hungry.
We went across the road for a pizza.
We were almost too tired to walk back across the road.
My eyes are closing now. It is the end of the holiday, the sun has shone, we have worked our socks off.
It is done, it is over, and now we can sleep until morning.
I have had two glasses of wine and can hardly lift my head up.
Sleep…
