I have just got a few moments outside Duffus House to start this.
We are waiting for Oliver.
He has sent me a text to tell me that he is just packing his things, so he should be here in a tick and I don’t suppose I will write very much.
Prince Edward was in Duffus House. The Queen must have sat outside just like this once, waiting patiently and wondering if he had grown again.
He has just rushed out to say hello, Oliver, not Prince Edward, obviously, and to explain that he will have finished packing soon.
He has grown again.
He noticed how small I have become and how remarkably ugly Rosie is.
We have in fact only just woken up. It is half past three in the afternoon, and we have spent the last hour fast asleep at the end of the school driveway. I was so soundly asleep that when the alarm went off I had no idea where I was or what I was supposed to be doing.
We spent the day having a long and interesting walk along the beach. We clambered over rocks and struggled up slippery sand dunes and strolled along the cliff path. We finished up in some exciting caves just a little way back from the sea.
Mark explored them and said they went a long way back. I went in a little way, and admired the gulls’ nests and the holes which belonged to the sand martens, and thought I could perhaps distinguish sleeping bats in the gloom. I did not want to go in for a very long way, because I am not very keen on cave spiders, which in my experience are always hairily enormous with great bulging eyes and terrifying teeth.
Rosie fell into several rock pools, stuffed her nose into a dead seagull, and fell head-over-heels into a muddy pond full of seaweed, which involved some alarm and a sodden scramble out.
None of this improved her general state of pristine appealingness ready for her first introduction to Oliver.
It was a very wet, blustery sort of day. The waves crashed excitingly against the cliffs, and the wind turned our faces scarlet. We saw the rain coming from out across the coast, and when it hit us it was like ice shards.
We were soaked by the time we got back, and had to change our trousers and hang our coats to drip above the fire. This was one of the moments when it is absolutely lovely to have a camper van, because we made a cup of tea and had cheese crackers and fudge whilst we gazed out at the darkened skies and frightening slate-grey waters.
The lady in charge of the shop at the harbour kindly said that we could refill the water tank afterwards. We emptied the loo and refilled the water, and so now we are all set to head south again. This is a nice feeling. We have filled the gas and the fuel and we are ready to go.
After that we drove to the bottom of the school drive and fell asleep, where I imagine we were a splendid advertisement for upper-middle-class education.
I expect the Queen would have appreciated the opportunity if only she had had a camper van, which she never has, poor lady.
It is now very much later, and we are somewhere not far from Glasgow. We have stopped for the night and drunk a bottle of wine. This is not the reckless hedonism that it might once have been because these days it is shared between three of us.
I am pleased to tell you that Oliver and Rosie are getting along very nicely indeed, despite Rosie’s slight odour of dead seagull and somewhat sandy texture. Oliver thinks it might be quite possible to teach her to Sit and Stay, which it might be if he fills his pockets with cheese and gets on with it.
Mark and I tend not to bother much with dog training beyond the two commands Come Here and Stop That, which cover pretty much all eventualities that I need. Neither Roger Poopy nor his father have ever really learned to Sit, because I have never really cared if they are sitting down or milling about. Get Out From Under My Feet works pretty well usually.
Oliver has been practising with Rosie this evening, with the end result that she is now stuffed full of cheese and snoring with the deepest contentment under our bed.
Oliver is snoring in the top bunk. Mark is in the shower and once again, I am in bed.
It is very nice indeed to have a boy and a puppy and to be in Scotland.
We will be home tomorrow.
I expect I will like that as well.
