Mark accompanied me and the dogs on our walk this morning and agreed that I was definitely getting fitter.
He is generally in rather better shape than me, because of working and splitting logs and carrying heavy things, but this morning for the first time we kept pace with one another comfortably, and bounded up to the top of the fell quite easily.
This was not as inspiring an experience as it might have been, because instead of contemplating the spectacular views Mark just thought about what a handy place it would be to put an aerial for some rural broadband, and started looking about to identify the places with which it might link up. I did not mind this, because I did not need help to listen to the quiet and look at the distant mountains, and also rural broadband might make us rich one day.
Mark has been mildly amused by my fitness attempts up till now. I put some new cheese in our picnics this week, it is some European cheese called Halloumi. I thought that it might be a Healthier Option than Red Leicester, but Mark said that it was like eating slices of flip-flops and requested that I discontinue including it in our dinners.
He was right really, it was the sort of product that squeaked on your teeth, and cost twice as much as Double Gloucester for a tiny bit, which is why I had thought that it might be good for us. I won’t miss it when we have Brexit.
We woke up late. Actually we hadn’t slept very much, Mark because he is still coughing, and me because my muscles all hurt so much from exercise that it is waking me up every time I roll over.
We had a cup of coffee and discussed things that we might do with the day.
Apart from the walk, in the end we didn’t actually achieve any of them, because somebody phoned up to complain that their rural broadband wasn’t working, and so Mark had to dash out to Ulverston to investigate. It turned out in the end that they had unplugged it. Mark plugged it back in and modestly accepted their congratulations for possessing technical genius, but of course this took up most of the day, and by the time he got back there wasn’t any time left.
Whilst he was gone I replenished our dwindling food stores. I made mayonnaise and a cake and a pan of curry. The children, who included a school friend of Oliver’s among their number, declined to eat the curry, and requested beef burgers instead, which I supplied patiently, because it is their last day and they go back to school tomorrow night.
I am on the taxi rank now. Something nice has just happened.
An intoxicated girl thought that she would jump out and run away instead of paying the fare.
Since she worked at one of the hotels, and had been dropped off at reception, I dashed in after her, where the night porters, whom I know well, stumped up to her room to retrieve her.
She reappeared, barefoot and in her dressing gown, and although impenitent, agreed to be taken to a cash machine to get some money.
Once at the cash machine she failed to get any money out.
I waited, with the usual taxi-driver resignation, whilst she tried five or six times until the machine swallowed her card.
She stood next to the taxi miserably, wondering what she should do. Then she had a flash of inspiration, accused me of stealing her shoes and announced that she was going to call the police.
A man appeared and said to me: “How much does she owe?”
I told him, and he gave me a tenner and disappeared.
I looked for him for the rest of the night, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was probably my guardian angel, he appears occasionally in moments of need.
It was the kindest thing and cheered me up considerably.
Life is lovely sometimes.
