It is the Queen’s coronation anniversary, and the sun has shone.
We did not catch very much of it, because of being mostly asleep, but we have managed to get the washing dry, even though I did not peg it out until lunchtime.
I should think the Queen was pleased about the sun for that reason alone, how awful if she had had to spend the day anxiously glancing up at the RAF and wondering if she should ask Meghan just to pop out the back and bring it all off the line for her.
Mark took the dogs off to the farm. It must have been one of those times when the poor Queen badly missed Prince Philip. She had got so many things to think about and she could not turn round to him and say For goodness’ sake will you take the dogs out from under my feet? I wonder what she did with them. Dogs are a terrible nuisance when you are wearing your best clothes, and I have seen some pictures of her and there was not a muddy paw mark or laddered stocking anywhere, perhaps she left them with Prince Andrew for the day.
I have not actually seen any of the celebrations, I will have to read about them in the newspaper later. Instead I have baked biscuits and sesame prawn toast and finally made a start on my college assignment.
I am relieved about this, it feels every bit as good as having been invited to a jubilatory street party. The whole thing has begun to turn into a scary monster in the cupboard. I have got a week before it needs to be handed in, and I have got to earn the mortgage and the school fees, dash up to Scotland and back, and be a witness in court during that week. This does not leave very much thinking time.
Oliver and Mark have both gone to work, leaving me doing the last tidying up and dog-emptying before I go as well, so I thought I would write to you whilst I am waiting for the prawn toast to cook in the oven.
Last night went jolly well in the end, mostly because hardly any other taxi drivers turned up. Perhaps they have all gone to London to wave flags at the Queen.
Almost all of my customers were in cheerful holiday mood, apart from a horrible Polish couple who said that they thought the Lake District was nothing much to look at, and over-rated as a holiday destination, with nothing much to do. I said that fortunately nobody cared what they thought and suggested that if they weren’t capable of amusing themselves in a World Heritage Site stuffed to the gills with wildlife and scenery and boats and decent restaurants, they could jolly well just buzz off back home.
They were very cross about this, so cross, in fact, that when I gave them the change from their fare they threw it all over the back of the taxi, in what I supposed was a gesture of contempt. It was an expensive gesture, because when I retrieved it afterwards it was £4.30. I wish more people felt contempt like that for humble taxi drivers.
The oven timer is dinging, and I am going to take the prawn toast out of the oven and dash off to work, because of course today, as a bonus bank holiday, is Double Time, and I am going to make the most of it. Mark is already making the most of it, because he wanted to read his book in peace for a while before things became busy, and so he is sitting next to the lake with his feet up, waiting for people to get off the steamers.
I am going to go and join him.
Have a very lovely Platinum Jubilee.
