Nottingham is possibly the most ridiculously navigationally challenging city that I have ever visited.
Poor Lucy woke up this morning feeling terribly nervous.
We practiced interview questions over breakfast. Anybody who says: “Tell me about yourself” as an interview opener is doing it on purpose to be unkind, or possibly has no imagination or just likes seeing people panic.
She told me about herself several times over bacon and eggs and a great deal of post-evening-out black coffee. Then we wondered why she might have chosen Nottingham Trent University, which she hasn’t, and discussed the ethical issues facing the police in this dilemma-ridden modern world.
Eventually we got our coats and walked up to the university together. It is about five minutes’ walk away, but we made the mistake of asking my phone for directions, so it took us nearly half an hour.
In the end I left her, with relief, on the fourth floor of a concrete and glass monster which looked as though it probably turns into a blinding inferno whenever the sun shines, and made my way back to the hotel. I kept my phone firmly in my pocket, and so got there in moments.
It was very peculiar, and somehow luxurious, to have a sudden void in my day.
I did not need to check out until lunchtime, so I made a cup of tea. Then I read my book and looked at my bank account and accidentally deleted my eBay watch list. I am expecting this to be very irritating in the future.
Lucy sent me a message to tell me that she would not be finished for ages, so I went for a swim.
I have not been swimming for months and months.
The hotel pool was occupied by some exhaustingly enthusiastic ladies who had brought their toddlers for a swim and a wee in the pool.
I like children in swimming pools about as much as I like Worcester sauce on my ice cream.
I ignored them as thoroughly as I could, and struck out up and down the other half of the pool, trying hard not to swallow any water.
My muscles, long allowed to lie fallow, were utterly outraged.
I swam as hard as I could for half an hour, which was not very hard, by which time the toddlers had buzzed off to desecrate the changing room. Then I had a sauna and a cold shower and staggered off to get dressed.
I had another shower, accompanied by my favourite Chanel soap, and then was astonished to notice a very pleasing sensation of well-being. People talk about this when you exercise, but I had forgotten all about it.
I floated back to the hotel lounge, feeling contented with my world, and wondered if somehow we could stretch our battered domestic budget to renewal of my PamperMe Loveliness WellPerson Health Spa membership.
I placated my complaining muscles by curling up in an hotel armchair for half an hour with my book before going to find Lucy.
She had had an ace time, and thought that she had done just fine.
They asked her to tell them about herself, and what ethical issues she thought might be facing a modern police force, and wondered why she might have chosen Nottingham Trent University. Then she had written her essay and made an assertive contribution to the debate and decided that probably she did not really want to go to Nottingham after all.
I thought that was fine, because I have had more than enough of their bus lanes to last me a lifetime.
We made our way back, slowly through the bright afternoon.
Lucy was exhausted, probably because of the combination of cocktail debauchery and anxious interviewness. She leaned back in the seat and yawned occasionally, all the way back to York.
I was tired as well, mostly because of the swimming, but quite happy to chug along contentedly with Lucy for company.
I left her at school with the promise that we would see one another again the day after tomorrow, and I turned into the sunset for home.
It was dark when I got home. The dogs were so pleased to see me I wondered if Mark had forgotten to feed them or something, but he hadn’t. He had been plastering the new wall.
The living room is starting to look enormous.
