I am going to make this a short entry because I have done nothing of note whatsoever in today.
Most things that I have done have been remarkably dull, like managing to get the washing dry in the garden even though it is November. This was of some satisfaction to me, here in my quiet little life, although I do not imagine that it will be of any interest to you at all. Imagine making a pitch for a film. You would not include details about washing, even if it belonged to the romantic hero and it was important that he had clean socks before embarking on the high-speed chase with the explosion at the end.
Indeed, it is exactly on a par with ‘watching paint dry’ which is a universal metaphor for something too boring even to be thought of. Therefore I will not tell you about it, although I was jolly pleased, especially because there is not much sunlight in our back yard at this time of year. Partly this is because of Mark’s shed and he has agreed to make the roof a bit lower because of it.
The other things that I have done have been preparations for Christmas and are too secret to tell anybody about, so I won’t.
In any case, it is already nine o’clock, and we are going to go to bed early.
We went to bed early last night as well, at least by our standards. We were thoroughly abluted and had blown the candles out and were starting to snore by half past ten. We slept with the utter dreamless oblivion of house bricks until the alarm went off this morning.
Even then I would have liked to carry on sleeping, but it was immeasurably easier to wake up than it usually is. Anyway, it felt so nice not to be longing to sleep all day today, we thought we would have another go tonight.
I had almost forgotten how splendid it felt not to be tired, and today I was not, hardly at all. Usually I ease myself into life firstly with coffee, then with a fresh-air-and-exercise trudge up the fell side with the dogs. I am sure that this is good for me but actually it is a bit of a breathless scramble. We have to stop at the top whilst I try and catch my breath. Sometimes this takes a while.
We got lost on the way back down this morning, because despite going up there every day, all of the fell side looks the same. I was thinking about something else altogether, and before I knew it I was ambling through some completely unfamiliar woodland and the dogs had disappeared off into the undergrowth in search of rabbits.
It was a happy moment, actually. There was some watery sunshine, and no breeze under the trees, and the world was silent except for the birdsong and a little beck bubbling down the hill.
When Roger Poopy reappeared it was apparent that he had found the beck as well and had to be dried off before he was allowed anywhere near household furnishings.
After this I played some loud music whilst I did the humble housewifely chores of the day. This combination is usually a splendid recipe for wakefulness, and also means that I do not have to listen to the BBC, which is currently a combination of programmes which either seem to be dull or irritating. There are narratives of people going for tedious walks, followed by discussions of artistic and incomprehensible plays which will only ever be shown in London and which I wouldn’t go and see even if they were shown here at the Peter Rabbit Theatre in Bowness, followed by the news.
I have gone off the news lately.
The usual problem with all of this activity is that at night when I get out on to the taxi rank and eat an enormous dinner, my eyes start to close immediately.
I have probably told you that a supply of extra strong peppermints helps me not to nod off whilst I am actually driving. The worst moments are when four passengers get in and want the heating on and all the windows closed. They seem to exhale warm sleepiness. If ever you get in a taxi and the driver has got the windows open, either he is trying not to go to sleep or you smell awful. Either way it is better not to ask for them to be wound up.
Mark has been working again today, by the end of this week he will have earned lots. This will not have any immediate impact on our finances, because we have been saving his rural broadband earnings for the hungry gap in January, but it is a splendid thing. We can go into January and be solvent. You can all stop worrying now. We are going to be absolutely fine this winter. We will not have overspent at Christmas at all and we will have money sloshing about like Prosecco at a hen party.
I have exhausted my account of the day’s events. I am going to go to bed.
Have a picture of the fell side this morning.
