We woke up early.
At any rate, I woke up early.
The camper van bed is not terribly wide. We sleep in far too close proximity to one another to be able to argue or sulk effectively. It is difficult to convey displeasure when you can’t wriggle more than a couple of millimetres apart, but it is jolly handy for keeping warm.
The result of my waking up early in a very small space was that it did not take long before Mark was awake as well. There is only so much fidgeting you can do before the person against whom you are entirely squished, is woken up by it, and he was.
I must confess that I did not try very hard not to fidget, because of wanting a cup of coffee. Mark makes the coffee. I don’t do it properly.
After a short period of fidgeting he woke up and made some.
The result of this was that we had actually finished drinking coffee by half past seven. This was brilliant at the time, with unbounded acres of the day stretching ahead like an enormous bright adventure. Tonight I am less delighted. Unfortunately I am beginning to feel distinctly sleepy, and there are still a lot of acres of day yawning in front of me.
We had woken up early enough to spend a little time with Lucy before she had to dash off to work, and I was jolly glad that we did.
Mark faffed about with her bike, and I interrupted her coffee to give her as much Good Advice as I could think of before she was lost to us for ever.
She did not need the advice.
She was dressed in her police uniform, her hair neatly tied back in a bun. She looked smart and self-possessed. Her lunch and a flask were ready on the side, the washing machine was on, and her bag was packed. Her bed was made and her life was ordered. She has a stick for hitting wicked people, a set of handcuffs and a torch.
She has Grown Up.
We hugged her goodbye and left her proceeding in an orderly fashion into adult life.
She has Said The Words. She is the Sword In the Darkness, the Shield That Guards The Realms Of Men.
For those of you who have never watched A Game Of Thrones and don’t recognise that quote, you lose, it is ace.
For the rest of you, that is exactly how it felt.
We gulped, and left her to her new brotherhood.
We stopped on the way home and thought about it.
She has left us in a very profound sort of way.
Her heart and soul will be on the side of the law.
Already it felt a bit strange, driving with our very own personal policeman sitting next to us. She will not want to join in any kind of illicit activity. If the car has a bald tyre she will not get in it. If I do not fasten my seatbelt she will disapprove.
When Lucy is next to me I can’t drive over the speed limit or through a red light. I can’t answer my phone whilst driving. All of these things and more will be completely unacceptable.
Of course I never did anything so rascally anyway. I am a model of law-abiding virtue. All journeys to and from Lucy’s school were done at a leisurely pace in a perfect vehicle with no yelling at other drivers or otherwise naughty activity, and I am quite sure that our trips to Gordonstoun will be the same.
We did not mind this. There is nobody better to look after your departed daughter than a police station bursting with determined police officers, and now she is one of their own. They will guard one another with their very lives. She is in exactly the right place.
In the end, our journey home was quite leisurely, because we had all day to do it and we did not in the least want to go home.
Mark drove home slowly, and when we got to Kendal we worked out that the camper van is doing thirty six miles to the gallon, which Mark said was jolly good for a forty year old truck.
We unpacked regretfully.
The next time we use it will be to go and get Oliver.
Until then we are home by ourselves.
I have just come to put this online and discovered a diary entry from him.
What an ace surprise.
I am going to go and read it.
