Oh goodness, there are only two more days.
I have got Saturday and Sunday, and all of Sunday, pretty much, is going to be occupied by taking Lucy back to school.
Once we get back home I have got to shower and then go, all in my own, in the Sunday night darkness. This is because I have got to present myself at the prison first thing on Monday morning, and I am certainly not going to dive out of bed early and then try and race the camper van across Cumbria in a hurry. That will not lead to my strolling calmly into my new employment, polished and sophisticated, and enviably on top of the situation.
Obviously things will be much better if I am in the camper van in the car park. That might not be very polished or sophisticated either, but at least I will not have to rush my coffee.
I feel like the children at the end of the holidays. Worse, I feel like they felt all those years ago, when they both started boarding school, white-faced and clutching their teddies.
It is so heart-wrenching, even now, to see the little ones going in to school for the first time. Oliver says that Form One are frightened for the first week, and then they turn into over-excited idiots and have got to be firmly jumped on. Lucy says that the little new girls seem to spend all of the time phoning their mummies and have got to be compelled to put their phones away and told instead to concentrate on important school events, like Fun Song.
Incidentally, on the subject of Fun Song, I had a letter back from the deputy head, declining my offer of Lucy’s services as a bouncer, and explaining that he does not feel that strip searches and sniffer dogs will be necessary, even for the Lower Sixth.
It appears that he does not do humour.
Anyway, I shall try not to turn into an over-excited idiot, and since we are not allowed to have telephones, probably I won’t be phoning my mummy either.
We have been doing leaving things all day, and somehow it has been fraught with difficulty.
Mark installed the solar panel properly on to the van. He has been faffing about with this for months, and to his massive frustration, when he came to install everything today, one crucially important part of the control panel did not work.
He took it all apart and put it back together again, but to no avail. The broken bit remained broken. In the end there were lots of bits lying about on the table, and he got cross and ordered another one on eBay. All is well that ends well, however, because he says that he will come and visit me if it turns up next week, and fit it for me.
I made almond and pineapple shortbread, and fudge, and coffee chocolates, so that Mark will not starve to death when I have gone.
Then I made some moisturiser, because we have run out, but I did not have the right sort of emulsifier, and instead of being soft and whipped and light to the touch, it has set like broken paving slabs.
It moisturises your hands reasonably enough, if you can manage to snap a bit off.
I might get chance to fix it before I go, but probably I won’t.
After that I had to start packing in earnest.
This is such a worrying thing to be doing. I have got to try and work out what I will need, and I haven’t got the first idea.
I know I will not have Mark, so I unearthed Lucy’s old hot water bottle. My feet actually radiate cold in bed at night, like a lightbulb radiates heat and light. It can take hours to warm them up if you do not happen to have a husband, so I thought I would organise a replacement. It will not make coffee or get tight lids off jars, but it is a start.
It is pink, with a picture of Sleeping Beauty, and says Sweet Dreams, Princess. I will have to hide it under my pillow, because some of the prisoners work outside sometimes, and they will not treat me with caution and respect if they look through the window and think that I pretend to be in a fairy story after I have clocked off.
I have got one full day left at home, and just a couple of nights.
I had better get my finger out.
Have a picture of the author looking Troubled In The Camper Van.
