It is the last class of the term, and I am feeling both sad and relieved.
It is jolly hard work writing stories all the time.
It is not hard work like sawing logs up or carrying bags of cement, but it makes me think very hard until my eyes go crossed and my tongue sticks out.
Being the last night, we are going to carry on a bit longer and allowed to have a glass of wine without having to pretend that is a cup of tea. I wondered how the tutor knew that we did that until it occurred to me that she is also a creative thinker and often has a mug of tea at her side.
I am writing this before the class starts so that it does not matter if I drink too much permitted wine and become too intoxicated to write to you.
I will have to tell you all about it tomorrow, assuming that I actually manage to finish this before the class starts. I have left it a bit late and might have to finish writing later, no matter what sort of shocking state I am in.
Fortunately I do not need to go out to work because absolutely nobody wants to get in taxis. It appears that nobody anywhere in the country has glanced out of their windows, and thought how much they would just like to come and have a few days camping in the Lake District.
Things are not being helped by the continuing electricity crisis. Although we have got power now, mostly, it is not real power but coming from massive generators lined along every road. None of the shops and restaurants can take card payments, because so many masts are down, with the irritating consequence that all of the cash machines ran out of money on Saturday night.
I jolly well hope Boris is paying attention and remembers it all, next time he contemplates his cunning plan for running everything on electricity in his cashless society. I can jolly well tell you, Boris, that if you had managed that little lot already we would have been in a complete pickle up here in Cumbria. Thank goodness for wood burning stoves, diesel generators and gas cookers.
As it is, we are all sitting tight waiting for the next storm to hit. This is supposed to reach us some time early tomorrow morning, so today I have done absolutely everything that might need me to go out of doors, apart from emptying the dogs, obviously. Of course I have emptied the dogs today but I will have to do it tomorrow as well no matter how ghastly the weather turns out to be.
The dogs are having a good time at the moment, despite the lashing rain. Number One Daughter’s dog, Tonka, has turned up for a visit, and he and Roger Poopy spent a joyous hour mud-wrestling in the park this morning. Tonka likes the skateboard track, with its little roller-coaster dips and sweeping bends, very much, and the two of them charged up and down it this morning, barking their heads off.
They could not usually do this because of the track’s popularity with children, but there are no children out of doors at the moment, due to the meteorological vileness.
When we got back I took the first things out to the camper van. We are, as you know, setting off for the north on Wednesday, and I did not much fancy hauling bags of dry towels out to the van through the forecast high winds and torrential rain. I managed to load everything in a short dry moment, and felt very pleased with myself, although the heavens opened as I set off back, and huge snowy raindrops leaked uncomfortably down the collar of my coat.
There is a lot more to be loaded yet. It is the carol concert, so we will need smart clothes as well as clothes which can be worn to crawl under the van to fix it in a snowstorm.
I will worry about it tomorrow.
Tonight I am going to go and be educated.
