It feels very much as if all the excitement should be over, and I ought to be back to normal, except I am not, quite, because Number Two Daughter is home.
This is a bit odd, and disorientating, because I feel as though I should be getting my life together and back into its usual pattern, and I can’t, because it is different.
This is not because I mind having Number Two Daughter and Mrs. Number Two Daughter (Common Law) at home, because of course I don’t, and indeed they are trying hard to be both unobtrusive and helpful, which is kind.
It is simply that life is just a bit different, and it has left me feeling mildly confused.
There are unfamiliar vegetables in the fridge, and unfamiliar washing on the line, and unfamiliar shoes being chewed up by Roger Poopy. Actually he hasn’t chewed up any of their shoes yet, probably because he was in such terrible trouble after the last ones. Mark’s flip flops cost ten pounds to replace, and Roger Poopy was in dire disgrace.
I went for my run before they got up this morning. It is the first time that I have done this for days and days, so long, in fact, that my legs had completely stopped hurting.
It was also odd actually to want to go out for a run. On the whole I do not like doing this very much, it is a bit like the last bit of a shower, where you turn the temperature dial to the blue bit for a couple of minutes. It is something horrid that needs to be done, and you just have to be brave and grit your teeth.
I did not feel like that today. I felt restless, and twitchy, as though I would actually like to stretch and move. I was glad to be setting off, which was a very peculiar feeling. Usually turning the corner at the end of the garden produces a reluctant inner groan.
It was ace to run without my legs hurting. Of course they did hurt by the end, but for the first time I could stretch them and run until I got thoroughly out of breath, rather than just until the excruciating cramping feeling became unbearable.
In fact, and you are really reading these words, today I enjoyed running.
It was a very hot day, even at half past eight in the morning. The air was thick, and soupy, and damp, and I had the unfamiliar sensation of sweat actually dripping from my hair as I ran. I think this may be a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
I took the photograph whilst waiting at a gate for the dogs to catch up. It is a very lovely summer.
When I came home Number Two Daughter had hung the washing out, so I did some of the things that have piled up during the last frantic week. I wrote some emails and paid some bills, and whilst I was doing it an email arrived from the Prison Service.
I have got to tell them the sizes of various bits of me so that they can get my uniform ready.
Of course I don’t go anywhere near a prison until November, so there is no rush whatsoever, but it was so exciting that I filled it in straight away.
I could choose between short and long sleeved shirts (long), and between boots and shoes (boots). I will have a fleece jersey and a jacket, and some cargo trousers. I do not know what cargo trousers are, but they do not sound as though they are polyester. As we all know, polyester trousers are the deal breaker. I wondered if I should email the lady at HR and ask, but it is difficult to express these sentiments without people thinking that you are odd, so I have not done anything about it so far.
I filled it all in and emailed it off, and felt the odd little sensation that comes when life as you know it is soon going to change for ever. I am not very good at changes.
It is difficult enough when there are unfamiliar socks on the washing line.
