I am disappointed to see that Prince Harry has not waited for Number Two Daughter.
There would have been no point in his waiting for Number One Daughter, even if she wasn’t already married, because she has encountered him during her military career and thinks that he is an idiot.
I suspect that might have recommended him to Number Two Daughter rather than otherwise. She would have been right up there next to him accidentally being photographed in the nude at illicit parties.
Obviously she would have to readjust her sexual orientation a bit, but I am sure it wouldn’t have been too much to ask. If he was determined to marry into a minority group, one would have been just as good as another.
So my destiny is determined, I am not now going to be Prince Harry’s mother-in-law. You will never hear him mirthfully referred to on these pages as Number Two Son-In-Law.
This is a sad thing, because I am quite sure we would have all enjoyed that. We would have had an inside line into interesting royal gossip without having to make any of the effort to hack into their telephones or stand around in our best clothes being polite to people. You would have had something riveting and scandalous to read over your cornflakes, and I would have had an excuse to buy a new hat.
Today’s entry is neither riveting nor scandalous, thanks to Number Two Daughter’s disappointing lack of effort. Mark has mended the washing machine and I have baked a fresh bannock.
The washing machine has been rubbish for ages. It has been making a deafening racket during the spin cycle, due to a collapsed bearing, and eventually it bashed the heating element so much that it switched off all the electricity in the house and refused to co-operate with anything. In the end Mark took the element out and bypassed the wiring, and so I have been filling the washing machine with the kettle for weeks.
He started off the day by going to work, to his legitimate new real job, at which he lasted two hours. This was not because he had been sacked, but because his new employer wanted time off to go to a funeral, and so they decided to try again in the morning.
He came home so pleased about his untimely release that he had not thought of anything else to do, and hence took the washing machine out and made a watery mess on the carpet.
This does not matter in the least, because after lots of swearing and bashing about it is quite like new. It has a new drum and a new heating element and a new belt. Also whilst it was in bits I took all of the plastic bits out that fill with horrible slimy black mould and scrubbed them with bleach. It is clean now, and will wash things with tranquil rattle-free ease, and heat itself up without any assistance from me.
I am very pleased about this.
I cooked a chicken and baked a fresh bannock and washed up. Then I hoovered and tidied up after Mark and cleaned the bits of washing machine that he was going to put back.
We had had an early start because of the job, and I was so tired that I sloped off for a snooze before I took Lucy back to school. It takes a long time to drive to York and back, after which I had got to come to work.
This is Number Two Daughter’s fault. If she had made more effort to marry Prince Harry I could have had a celebratory night off and probably tomorrow as well, since it will be Tuesday and quiet.
How jolly tiresome.
