I am relieved to be on the taxi rank.
Mark and Oliver have gone off to work and I spent the day doing all of the cleaning that I have not been trying very hard to get around to for the last few weeks.
It is a very long time since I have cleaned the house.
I started in Oliver’s room and worked my way down.
It was not at all a nice way to spend a day.
Outside the sun was warm, and the birds were whistling their heads off, and I was tugging greasy hairs out of plug holes. It was not my most joyful summertime moment.
Worse than that, even though we got up especially Monday-morning early, there really wasn’t enough day. That is to say, although there was lots and lots of day, and I spent ages and ages and ages scrubbing dust off things that have been harvesting it for weeks, in the end it ran out.
I did not get anything like finished. I am supposed to go to work at three o’ clock, and by half past I was still panting round dragging the clean sheets off the washing line to put them back on the bed.
In the end I had to give up, with half of the things on my very long list still un-crossed-off. I will have to do those tomorrow.
Lots of the things that I would have liked to have done had not even made it as far as the list. This was because even I knew that doing them was in the realms of fantasy, and there was no point in upsetting myself over more failure than strictly necessary.
I still need to get Oliver some new pyjamas and a dressing gown.
I made myself a flask of tea to bring with me, and I am sitting on the taxi rank drinking it with a mixture of relief and guilt. Also with some distaste, because my hands smell of bleach, and every time I lift the cup up my nose is quite convinced that I am about to get a mouthful of it, despite my determined attempts to reassure my tastebuds that really this is not true.
Tastebuds are so easily deceived, like politicians who have been listening to Public Health England about statistics.
I am hoping for a good evening tonight. Last Monday Windermere was full of helpful people eating out, and they have only got another few days before nobody needs them to help any more. Mark suggested that we eat out as well, because he likes helping people, but a few minutes spent doing some basic sums suggested that probably we had better not.
It is Oliver’s very last week at home, and one of the things I did today was to make a proper start on his packing.
I took a pen and paper, and as I put things in the bag I wrote them down. If I do not do this I will forget, and then spend ages frantically rummaging through trying to remember whether I have packed or lost the charger for his bike light. This spoils my beautiful tidy packing, and I finish up doing it every year.
This year, after more years of boarding school than I can remember, I have not, and I felt very efficient and pleased with myself. It says things like 3 4 5 blk sox check c/van for rest. I read a book once about how to have an organised mind, and I can’t remember anything that it said but I bet lists were in it.
It is now very late, and the evening has rushed along, and I have only just got back to this. I took a photograph for you of my view from the taxi rank, so that you can have a little look into my life.
It was a busy evening in the end, hurrah. I am just drinking my last cup of tea before it draws to a close. I am going to read a last few pages of Harry Potter, and I am going to go home at midnight.
I expect Oliver and Mark are already in bed.
See you tomorrow.
