It rained a very little bit this morning, hardly enough to dampen my washing.
I am pleased to tell you that it has not been the deluge that the online weather forecast gravely warned us to expect.
This is a bit worrying, because it means there is a possibility that our friend might not be bonkers after all.
It could indeed be true that the output from the Met Office, which should be incontrovertible truth because it is on the mighty Internet, is yet another troubling fraud, perpetrated upon us by an oppressive government.
Who would have thought it?
In fact the day has turned out to be breezy, but very much sunnier than expected, and I am sitting not only peacefully, but rather warmly, on the taxi rank.
Mark is not on the taxi rank, because of course he has gone to work, and is going to join me this evening. He will have to come home late, because this morning we loafed about in bed, and everything happened an hour after it should have done.
This was not because we are extra-especially slothful at weekends, but because we hung about hopefully on the taxi rank last night, and did not get to bed until one in the morning.
We were not working all of that time. Actually for almost all of it we were not working at all, but sitting quietly on the taxi rank, drinking steaming cups of spiced chai in the dark and reading by torchlight.
I am having a nicer time now that I have decided not to read any more murder stories at night.
I do not like wanting to look behind me in the dark.
Instead I am reading a book called Persuasion, which is splendid. It was the last novel written by Jane Austen, who is in trouble at the moment, and some people want her to be taken off school reading lists.
I do not know what is going to be left on school reading lists. Somebody was going on about it in the newspaper the other day, and it would seem that CS Lewis is being scowled at by the Storytelling Police as well. I am sad about this, because he is still probably my most favourite writer ever, and although he did not approve of a lot of things that we do not mind now, like letting women go to university, it does not make him any less brilliant.
I do not know what Jane Austen thought about women going to university. She is not in trouble about that, but because she did not mention very much that she disapproved of slaves. Also she thoughtlessly consumed a lot of things that were produced by them, like tea and cotton. I do not think that it is fair to blame her for this, because things like 7Up and Nike trainers had not been invented yet.
I do not think I would be reading Persuasion if it was going on about slaves. I think Twelve Years A Slave and Uncle Tom’s Cabin are not merry bedtime reading.
So far the nastiest event in Persuasion is that somebody has bumped her head. The other characters are upset about this, and I am reading with interested sympathy. I have read it before, but it was so long ago that I can’t actually remember what happens in the end, although obviously it is not difficult to guess.
It is gentle and untroubling.
There are no slaves and no murders.
It is comforting to know that one’s reading matter is not going to lead to nightmares.
In fact last night I did not read anything at all. I was on my way to bed when the phone dinged, and it was Lucy.
She thinks she would like to come with us when we go to collect Oliver at the end of May, and then come home and stay for a few days.
I relayed this to Mark this morning over coffee, and we thought longingly of all the things that we could do if only it were not the next bank holiday weekend. Of course everything will be reopening again, and we are going to have to go to work.
Then Mark said:
“I don’t think I care if it is a bank holiday. I think we should spend time with the children.”
This surprised me so very much that I think my mouth opened and closed once or twice, like a goldfish put into a bowl of tap water.
I can hardly say what a strange thought this is. We have worked for every bank holiday ever. Lots of people come to the Lake District, and we make as much money as we can and then save it for January when they have all gone home to sit in front of their own fires and watch telly.
We have not quite decided yet, but we think that we might have a day all together in Blackpool.
We are still thinking about it.
I will keep you posted.
Have a picture of the sunshine, with Roger Poopy in it.
