Goodness, it is getting cold.

We are on the taxi rank, and it has taken absolutely ages for my taxi to warm up enough for me to be able to feel my fingers.

Taking a customer somewhere would probably help.

I am feeling very pleased indeed with the day, for the uninspiringly grown-up reason that I have got all of my housework done, and next week I will be able to do some painting.

After yesterday’s marathon sleep we were excitedly leaping into the day before the clock even started dinging twelve today, and hence we had lots of time for making our becoming-shabby lives perfect again.

Mark swept the chimney.

We have been burning woodwormy timbers taken out of an old barn for the last few weeks. This is brilliant stuff, mostly dry oak, and it burns beautifully. The thing is that we quite often leave the stove closed down tightly on a slow smoulder for ages, which is quite enough to keep the whole house warm. This creates a lot of soot, and a fine, powdery ash.

I went into the garden and cleaned the top of the stove whilst Mark poked the brushes up the chimney, so that I could shout him when the round bit came out at the top. He does not really need me to do this because he knows when it should have come out because he has run out of rods, but I like to do it anyway.

It was very, very sooty.

Soot is a jolly good thing to have, of course. Mark filled two buckets with it and we spread it all over the garden to keep the slugs away. Then he put all of the ashes on the compost heap. You can do this if you only burn wood, even if it has been whitewashed like the old barn timbers, because it is rich in potash. Then he cleaned the fireplace until it shone.

This will help the house not be so dusty, and will make the fire burn better. Also it will mean that the chimney will not catch fire, and the horrible, horrible fire brigade will not come round and bash holes in the roof.

When we had cleaned all of this up, Mark went to take the brakes off the camper van and I took the dogs for a walk. This was a little token gesture towards getting fit, in case I have passed the Prison Officer Assessment and need to do a bleep test.

I could have gone to the gym, but I thought it might be bad luck, like counting your chickens before you have found out where your stupid hen has hidden her broody nest.  It is a bit like telling somebody what you wished for after you blew the candles out, a sort of counter-productive magic. I do not wish to spoil my chances by accidentally breaking an important enchantment, and so I have erred on the side of prudence and not gone to the gym. I am sure you will appreciate my caution.

We walked up the fellside towards the farm, and the dogs charged about ecstatically. They dashed in and out of the beck and through the mud and dug holes for imaginary foxes and rolled in badger poo. They were very happy.

They had been so happy that when we got home they had to have a bath.

After that I had to clean the bathroom.

I thought that since  was cleaning the bathroom I might as well clean everywhere else, so I did.

Mark came in and said that the reason the camper van has been so expensive to run has been that the brakes have been stuck on forthe last thousand miles. They are not stuck on now. He has taken them off and they are in bits in the shed, having the cylinders repaired.

We would like to fix this so that we can go to collect the children in it next weekend. This is another thing that I am trying very hard not to let myself hope for, because the thought is too wonderful for words.

I am having to be very self controlled at the moment, there is an awful lot that I am not thinking about.

I am going to occupy tomorrow by painting some pictures. Mark has made a door for the camper van wardrobe, and it needs illustrating.

I am happy about this. It will be a wonderfully contented way to spend the day, and all of my worries will fade away whilst I do it.

I have got a whole day to do it because the house is tidy and clean.

I am looking forward to it.

 

2 Comments

  1. Congratulations on the best not-going-to-the-gym excuse I’ve ever read. Fears of hexing a job prospect so much better than my idle “can’t be arsed and it’s raining.”

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