Well, once again we are on the seemingly-endless open road.
This time it is pointing to the far north, and Scotland, because Oliver is going back to school.
It is almost midnight, and we are just passing Carlisle.
We did not set off until late. This was my fault, because Monday is my university night, and I wanted to do my class from home. This was not so much because of the luxury of a warm office and comfortable desk and chair, as much as the mildly troubling unpredictability of the internet as one crosses the Scottish Highlands.
Mark and Oliver did not mind this. Everybody had got plenty to do at home anyway. Oliver was entirely occupied by a thrilling game and a new book, and Mark had ordered a new bit for the camper van last week which had finally arrived yesterday, and hence everybody was busy.
I was especially busy.
I was writing my story for the Food And Drink competition. I think I told you that I started this yesterday, and it needed to be finished today.
I volunteered to do the dog-emptying this morning to give me time to think. It is easier to think when I am outdoors, and all I have got to do is to look at the scenery and ignore the dogs. I can try and think whilst I am doing things in the kitchen, but I am very easily distracted and finish up flitting from one job to another, and not thinking about anything at all except whether I have already added the salt, or where I have put the replacement button that the shirt is going to need.
Hence Mark volunteered to hang up the washing and go to the Post Office whilst I wrote about dinners.
I can’t tell you what I wrote because you have not got to say anything online which might tell the judges what you have written. It is very important that you are anonymous so that nobody can cheat.
It was probably all right, though, because it made Oliver laugh and Mark cry, and I finished it all off just before class.
Class was fine. I had done my homework, and have stopped worrying about being the stupidest in the class, because even when I am the others are very polite about it, so it doesn’t matter.
When it was all over I thought that would quickly upload my story on to the competition website, and then we could set off, except their website had crashed and I couldn’t.
I didn’t have time to worry much about it, because we had to get on the road. Mark had put everything in the van whilst I was being educated, and we jumped in, being careful not to forget the dogs, and off we went.
I stopped writing this at that very point, having reminded myself about the website, so I thought I would have another go, which turned into a Terrible Moment.
The website worked this time. The thing was that I looked through my story, and realised that it had the wrong line spacing on it.
I couldn’t edit it on my little flat computer.
I tried and tried, and in the end had to ask Oliver to help.
I can hardly bear to think about the agonies of the next hour. We tried every way possible, and sometimes the story looked right but then wouldn’t go on to the website, and sometimes it went on the website fine but was not properly spaced.
I was so cross and impatient by the end that I do not want to tell you about it.
In the end we just sent it to Oliver’s computer, which is a properly grown-up one, and he entered the competition for me.
Obviously he put my details on it, not his own. He has no wish to become a food and drink writer.
I sighed with happy relief, just as we pulled into a service station beside Glasgow, which is where we are now.
We are here now because we pulled in because there is something wrong with the engine. As I write, Mark is bashing about under the bonnet and swearing.
Another exciting day.
LATER NOTE STILL:
We are on the road again, but with a fuel pump problem that is going to make the outcome into an adventure.
Wish us luck.
