We are back at home, in an on the taxi rank sort of a way.
I have been so busy that it is almost a relief to be here.
As you might remember, the day began in a lay-by at the side of the road halfway between Kendal and Sedbergh. This is a splendid way to start any day. We had breakfast sitting peacefully outside the camper van, like gypsies, and Mark polished his shoes. He has been trying to get round to this for day now, and it was splendid to have a small still moment in which to do it.
Once we had finished milling about we went to Asda, partly because we had run out of useful things like soap powder, and partly because Oliver has grown out of all of his school trousers. We usually buy these in Marks and Spencer, but they had run out, and Asda was the last gasp of hope.
We managed to buy school trousers, only one pair of which were the wrong colour, and all of which will probably more or less fit him with some minor alterations, which was jolly fortunate, considering we have left it a bit late.
The camper van broke down on the way home. It sprang a leak in one of the water pipes, and Mark had to fix it with a screw and some gaffer tape. This got us back home, and I unpacked everything and Mark took the camper van off to the farm to be nursed back to health.
I had not only to unpack the things we had used in the camper van and the shopping, but the Terrible Moment had come to get Oliver’s things ready for school.
This was terrible in more ways than one. Not only did it turn a brutal spotlight on my parental incompetence and lack of organisation, it reminded Oliver that the doleful end of the holidays loomed large, and his future is about to include Latin and algebra and rationed tuck once again.
We were not exactly cheerful as we hauled his abandoned luggage down the stairs. We were even less cheerful when we realised that he had left half of his PE kit at Gordonstoun, or possibly, he thought, on the aeroplane.
My positivity finally began to fade when I reached into a bag which was supposed to contain his pencil case and flute music, and instead I discovered several items of crumpled, smelly washing.
We put the washing machine on and printed off the kit list. Then I folded things and packed them whilst Oliver carefully placed a tick beside them on his list.
He had torn impossible holes in both school uniform jerseys. We put them in the bin and started a list of things to be purchased or which we had still got to do.
He explained that he did not like his school dressing gown very much, so we washed his home one and thought that we would pack that. This led to a crisis later on when he wanted to wear his home dressing gown at home and of course it was hanging wetly on the rail in front of the unlit stove.
We managed to dig out a pair of Lucy’s old trainers for him to wear on the astro-turf, and his last-season-cricket shoes will do for the sports hall. His rugby boots still fitted, to my joy, and so all we need to replace is the trainers for muddy wear, which he has left somewhere in Scotland.
We folded towels and quilts, pyjamas and handkerchiefs. He did not like the socks I had bought last term and he did like some ones that he had which were misfortunately the wrong colour. We found all of his football socks and even an extra one for good measure. When Mark came home he sharpened all of his pencils and we refilled his ink pen and washed the nib out so that it would write properly again. It has got to be a left handed nib, of course.
By the time we were organised and tidy of course we were late for work.
We dashed about flinging sandwiches into bags and kissed Oliver goodbye.
I have been at work ever since. It is now 4:47, and I am going to go to bed.
One more day, just one.
I do feel terribly sad.
