I am writing this from a crisp white cotton bed in the Midland Hotel in Manchester.
Of course we always have a crisp white cotton bed, but this one is better because there are no dog paw prints and I will not need to make the sheets crisp again when they have become limp and weary on Monday morning.
Obviously it is better. It is the Midland, and after all of that flapping, we are here. We have done everything that needed to be done and I have nothing on my conscience at all. Well, nothing that is bothering me tonight.
The running about and flapping this morning was, of course, quite remarkable. Mark took the dogs to the kennels and the children took the letters to the post office.
The kennels would not let the poor dogs keep their lovely cushion, which they like because it smells of home, and Christmas tree chocolate and dog dribble. This was because the lady said there was a risk of catching bat flu from it.
Sometimes I find it very difficult to be patient with the world. Of all the horrible things I have occasionally thought one might catch from the dogs’ cushion, bat flu is not only the least likely, but probably the least perilous. I am never entirely confident about kneeling on it when I have to put another log on the stove, and always feel that perhaps I should disinfect my knees afterwards.
The children spent a small fortune in the post office, and then somehow all the stray glitter was hoovered up and we had finished.
We have got a lot of luggage.
Mark hauled it all into the car and we set off for Manchester.
Manchester was having a very still, misty sort of day when we got here. I was quite surprised by how mild the weather was. Oliver thought it was so warm that he peeled off his jacket, and Lucy, who has become accustomed to sunnier climes, shivered even in her woollen coat.
We had a glass of wine in the bar, of course, and then ambled across town to a Greek restaurant that we like, where we had kleftiko and saffron rice, which I can tell you was very good indeed. Kleftiko means something to do with thieves, and we thought that probably this is where we get the word Kleptomaniac.
How informative and useful these pages can be.
After eating the most enormous dinner, we made our way across town to the theatre. We had got tickets to see the Book of Mormon, which was our Christmas present to ourselves, and I was very excited about it.
Alas, the theatre was dark, and some grim-faced blokes, masked even though they were outdoors, like bank robbers, told us that the theatre was closed and the show cancelled.
Somebody had tested positive for bat flu.
We will not get another chance to see this. Lucy has got to go back to work, and in any case all the other performances are full.
It was most disconcerting. My memories of working in the theatre are that the Show Must Go On, no matter what. I have known this happen no matter what disasters have happened. I have known people die on the stage. Twice, actually. I have never, in all my life, known a show to close like this.
The chap on the door said that they had only known for an hour, which suggested to me that it was the authorities, rather than the theatre, which had been responsible, and that the theatre had been trying to find ways of staying open, but to no avail.
We were all a bit nonplussed, but then somebody had the cheering idea of going to see the new West Side Story film, probably me now that I think about it. We did that, and although not theatre, it was utterly brilliant. Do go and see it. It was ace.
We wandered back through the teeming streets to the hotel. Tuesdays in Windermere are never ever like this, not even in August. There are people everywhere.
We are booked to go and see Aladdin on Thursday. I have got everything crossed that it still runs, but am no longer confident. As you know, we have booked theatre tickets for January as well. We have saved and saved for that trip, and counted the days with excitement.
We do not expect it to happen now. I think it is unlikely that the Government will still be allowing theatres by then.
It is the oddest feeling. We will have our ticket money refunded, which will mean we have got unexpected cash floating about, but it does not matter. There is no point in having money if there is nothing wonderful to do with it.
We are holding our breath until Thursday.
Obviously that is a metaphor.
