Grim future

When we woke up this morning it had snowed.

In fact it was still snowing.

I had planned to try my luck running around Windermere’s running track, but under the circumstances decided not to bother. I think I would rather wait until the weather conditions offer less opportunity for a shattered pelvis.

I stuffed Mark full of breakfast and his bag full of bannock and jam and hot dinner and home made chocolates, in order to ward off frostbite, and then took the dogs on our newly prolonged early morning walk, a picture of which is above.

This is because of trying to become a person who can sail airily through a bleep test, the sort of person whose calves are bulging with muscles and whose thighs do not wobble when they stamp the snow off their boots. We are walking for a couple of miles up the fell every day, and then back, obviously. At least, I am walking for a couple of miles. Roger Poopy, who rushes about diving into snowdrifts and chasing starlings, must manage at least twenty. You can see him, in the picture, rushing off down the path in the distance.

There was a great deal of snow. It was snowing so much that by the time we turned around to come back our footprints had disappeared. We picked our way quite carefully over the icy rocks, and I was not sorry to reach the road again.

I thought grumpily that I must be the only person in the world who considered an early morning walk around the Lake District fells to be a tiresome chore.

I met the postman on the way back and discovered that this was not the case. He was not enjoying the snow in the least, and had decided to retire to the butcher’s shop for a cup of tea in the hope of some improvement.

I imagine he was disappointed, because the snow did not stop for ages, and when it did stop, in the afternoon, the skies cleared and an icy blast began to swirl in from the high fells. We are having a hard frost tonight.

I filled the fireplace with logs and was glad of our warm house.

We had decided not to go to work tonight, because last night was so completely rubbish. Between six in the evening and two in the morning I managed to earn ten pounds, the result of a single fare, who complained that it was too expensive. I did not mind about this in the least, because I never care about complaining, and also I was having a contented time recuperating from the gym, reading a good book about the psychology of rudeness, and eating some home made coffee chocolate, but I think I would rather not bother this evening.

Did you know that when people are rude to you it affects your ability to perform well at your job – or indeed at anything – for several hours afterwards? Please bear this in mind when speaking to surgeons.

I spent the ten pounds on yoghurt and chicken and cooked a curry, in order that I would not feel deprived and wish that we could afford a takeaway or to eat out. This was a stroke of genius, and we ate it with huge satisfaction, cooked food instead of a picnic being an occasional luxury. The problem with this was that we felt hugely full and contented and went instantly to sleep instead of doing all of the things we should have been doing, mending camper van brakes in Mark’s case and going to the gym in mine.

When I woke up it was almost ten o’ clock, and had it not been for emptying the dogs and writing to you I would not have got up at all. Mark went downstairs to carry on with the brakes, and I switched on my computer to discover a very kind email from Number One Son-In-Law, who has very thoughtfully and helpfully written a training programme for me.

I read it with mounting horror.

It would appear that my usual exhausting gym efforts are not quite enough to be considered a proper warm-up.

My immediate future is looking horribly bleak.

It includes 100 squats.

I have never done a squat and am not quite sure what they are. I shall have to look it up on YouTube.

I have included it below for your entertainment, and my own encouragement.

I don’t think I am going to enjoy this one bit.

I shall let you know how I get on with it.