I have had the nicest of days.
I think perhaps for you to understand this it might help if I explained how very dreary it has been over the last week or two, sitting on a taxi rank for hours and hours, when there are no customers. Even with a good book it has been rubbish. The pubs have been closed and people have not come on their holidays, and just as a special Lake District Bonus Feature, just lately the weather has been dreadful as well.
I don’t suppose I can blame the Government for the last bit, although I do think they might do a bit more to encourage global warming. Sunshine and hot dry winds would have helped, the sort that people worry about in other countries that are turning into deserts, although if they were counting their blessings they would at least be glad that they were able to get their washing dry
I have had my washing pegged under the great solar dryer today. It does not seem to be working very well at the moment, perhaps it needs its batteries charging. I brought it all in when it started to go dark, but still had to hang it all up again in the house.
I hope it is dry by morning, because then we will just be able to put it all on again and I will not need to bother folding it all up and putting it away.
Anyway, for some time life has been very tiresome indeed. I have been rushing off at three, or maybe later if I have not got organised in time, to spend the rest of the day on the taxi rank, neither doing anything useful nor earning any money.
Today all of that is over. I do not have to sit on a silent taxi rank any more.
Of course Mark has had to go out to work, but that was all right. He likes going to work, because it is interesting and he can talk about things like boilers with Ted or Number One Son-In-Law. Also he came home to a cooked dinner in front of the fire, instead of having to dash straight off out again to eat sandwiches on a taxi rank.
We had a glass of wine. It was the nicest evening we have had in ages.
It was very peculiar indeed not to be working. My subconscious mind began automatically to curse and panic as the clock struck two, before I recalled the lovely, lovely absence of any deadline at all. I did not need to flap about. I could stay in my warm kitchen, making chocolate biscuits, probably until December if I liked.
This was a joy.
I made two sorts of biscuits and a curry, and some Peshwari naan bread. There was enough curry and bread for tomorrow as well, so tomorrow I do not need to cook again.
Just a note for the domestically inclined. I made the curry with a pot of home made yoghurt that had somehow been knocked off the back of the fire and forgotten about. It had been sitting there for about four or five days, sweating warmly, and had turned into a sort of tangy cream cheese. It was very nice on hot bread crusts for breakfast this morning, and then I chucked the rest into the curry mix. I had not realised you could make cheese like this, and will do it again. I am telling you in case you would like to try it for yourselves.
Some splendid things happened to enhance the loveliness of the day. Number Two Daughter has finished listening to her Jilly Cooper story on the internet Audible book reading thing, and so it was my turn. I pottered around the kitchen, listening to improbably handsome millionaires being chatted up by very beautiful sophisticated women but unrealistically falling in love with the plain and penniless heroine.
This has never once ever happened in my entire life experience, although I suppose neither have pigs turned into farmers nor wardrobes led to enchanted wintery landscapes, nor giants turned up on motorbikes to take the children to boarding school, so actually I suppose it is all right if it is in a story. In any case it was a soothing activity, and I was so soothed that I made my Christmas cake.
What a virtuous person I am. It is on the dresser, having had its first preservative drenching in brandy.
Roger Poopy is quite restored to himself again, having had two wonderful muddy outings with Pepper today. He charged about and barked his head off, quite shattering the still air of autumn tranquility. He snored on his cushion, blissfully, for the rest of the afternoon.
The other lovely thing is that my parents have very kindly shelled out some supportive cash, so not only am I ambling about in bucolic domestic bliss, but I need have no dreadful economic guilt and dread whilst I am doing it.
It has been a lovely day. My troubles have melted away and I am catching up with all of the things that I have long needed to get done.
I am going to go to bed.
