I think we are probably just about ready for Oliver’s departure.
Gordonstoun has not found his trainers or his swimming costume, despite some serious searching, and so we think that he has somehow managed to leave them on the aeroplane on his return journey. We have no idea why he might have been waving his swimming costume around the aeroplane, my children are not always predictable in their activities, could have been anything.
Apart from trainers and a swimming costume, which I expect that we will be purchasing from Sports Direct on our way to school tomorrow, the deed has been done. The bags are packed. We are prepared.
Mark took the dogs and a thick slice of bread and jam, and cleared off to the farm to repair the camper van. Our plan for tomorrow is to take Oliver back to school in it. Obviously now that it is going we want to use it at every possible opportunity, because it is much nicer to travel the country in an escaped fairground attraction than in a clapped-out taxi. Also it is nice to be able to get fed up of driving and to stop for a cup of coffee or a little snooze in your own bed every now and again.
It was not exactly going this morning, as you might remember from yesterday, because of some leaks. One leak involved oil and the other involved water. Both of these needed some serious plugging before we could venture forth again, and so Mark disappeared to do some more surgery on its hapless intestines to restore it to functionality again.
I spent the day doing dull things like ironing and sewing nametapes and cleaning shoes.
The lodger came in from work whilst I was in the middle of all of this. I was bored with my own company, so she helpfully made some coffee and politely listened whilst I talked to her.
I like to have an audience, and helpfully lectured her about the best way that she could organise her life to be a success whilst I cleaned shoes and mended things before I went off to work to earn a living driving a taxi.
Oliver patiently tried on trousers and shoes and eventually sat at the kitchen table to do his homework. We have discussed homework occasionally during the holidays, but Oliver seems to be destined to follow in his parents’ academic footsteps. He does not put off until tomorrow the homework which can be completely avoided altogether. I am still like this, especially about things like ironing.
I made pizza, and offered advice about his maths. This is not the same as offering the answers, because I didn’t exactly know any of them. I did rather better with the English but am not sure that I was much help, mostly because I disagreed with the author of the exercise about their positioning of commas. I am in favour of self-determination when it comes to commas, they jolly well go where I think that the reader might feel that a breath might come in handy, and I don’t see any need for Oxford to interfere.
In the end he finished, and we heaved a joint sigh of relief. He scampered back upstairs to exterminate the remains of the zombie population on his computer, and I got our picnic ready for work, which is where we are now.
We need to earn enough money for a swimming costume and some trainers, then we can go home.
Not long now.
