I regret to tell you that I am somewhat Under The Influence.
We have had a night off and I have had two glasses of wine. They were quite large glasses, and I think that I might be tipsy. Certainly I am very much looking forward to going to sleep.
Mark has been installing rural broadband all day and we did not want to go to work again, so we didn’t. We stayed at home and watched a film.
The film was chosen by Oliver. It was a film of which I have heard, vaguely, but never watched. It was called The Phantom Menace, inexplicably, and it was about people from a planet in outer space.
It was the first film in a series of Star Wars films. Obviously I have heard of these, and even watched half of one once, until I fell asleep. I did not fall asleep because the film was rubbish, although it might have been, I can’t remember much about it, but because I had been working too much at the time, and once the glass of wine worked its tranquillising magic I was lost.
I did not fall asleep tonight even despite the wine, perhaps I have become lazier as I have grown older, and actually I quite liked the film. As Oliver observed, with some satisfaction, it was a film made up entirely of interesting bits. There was no discussion of motives, no kissing girls, no inner struggles, no guilt or self doubt, and plenty of fights, spaceship-chases, thrilling explosions and shooting robots. In short it was a film made entirely by people who were not French.
When it was finished Mark and Oliver volunteered to tidy up whilst I wrote to you. I can hear them downstairs squabbling mildly over where things should be put away. It sounds likely from here that the rubbish bin was the destination of choice for almost everything in the end. I will have to do some investigation in the morning.
I have spent much of today attempting to prepare for the imminent return of Number Two Daughter and the new Mrs. Number Two Daughter, pictured here on their current holidays, they have been to Hobbiton. As you probably know, Hobbiton had some bad times when Sauron was in power, but once they got rid of him and got a new government in, presumably one with a decent majority, it recovered very nicely and is now heavily involved in the tourism industry. I imagine it is full of taxi drivers and disgruntled guest house owners now, all of whom drink too much on Monday and Tuesday nights when there are no visitors.
Anyway, they are coming back to the UK next week, and will be paying us a visit. We are very much looking forward to this.
However it has meant some hasty reorganising of the loft, which is off course the site of our spare bed. The loft has not been immune from the general influx of kitchen-related clutter over the last weeks, and there was some considerable tidying up to be done, not made easier by the small detail that I have donated all the drawers and cupboards to Lucy.
The lodger dropped in for a coffee this afternoon, and looked around at the living room full of teetering piles of kitchen with some astonishment. She has, she reminded me, got a garage should we wish to avail ourselves of it. It is, she explained, although not quite empty, devoid of kitchens of any sort, and it might be a better sort of space for an unused kitchen than our living room.
My heart quailed at the prospect of moving kitchen units anywhere else ever again, but she might be right. It might be very handy to have a living room for Christmas.
We might be moving kitchens again next week.
