I am not going to write to you tonight.
It is too warm and too busy.
I like the summer nights. Everybody wants to get in a taxi. I have been interrupted twice during the writing of these immortal lines by Persons from Porlock, or at any rate from the Marina Village.
Instead, you can entertain yourselves by watching the various activities of our beloved leaders, as they squabble themselves into a complete tizz. I had entirely believed that one of them, called Suella Braverman, had once used to be on Play School, but it turned out that that was somebody else of a newly-political nature, which is a pity, it could have brought a completely new and enlightening atmosphere to 10, Downing Street. What fantasy are we going to look at through the Round Window today, children?
There are lots of fantasies to choose from. I have read several campaign speeches and am frankly delighted at the rosy future they are all predicting. It doesn’t matter which one it is, stable government and joyful equality for all is firmly on the table, along with champagne served to all hospital patients and a free puppy for anybody who is sad.
How pleased I am, what a winter we can look forward to.
Somebody else can have my puppy, though, the one I have got is keeping me quite thoroughly occupied at the moment.
It has turned out that Roger Poopy’s tiresome father is not, after all, the decrepit old ruin we had thought. Now that Rosie is in season it appears that he can leg it after her at high speed almost all the time. We walked over the fells this morning and not once did I need to turn around and shout for him. He was in front of me practically all the way, prancing along with his tail in the air, nose inserted firmly into Rosie’s fleeing bottom.
He is a revolting old lech and should be banned from unsupervised contact with puppies.
Rosie, for her part, got very overheated and hurled herself into the mud bath that was once the pond at the bottom of the fell. She is still caked in mud now, because I did not get round to bashing it off her, and it is flaking all over the kitchen floor.
Also I am pleased to announce that finally we have abandoned our Four Season Sub-Zero duvet in favour or the summer blankets. I always like this moment, and have shoved the quilt through a boil wash before it goes under the wardrobe for the summer. It has had a traumatic year, between puppy misfortunes and elderly dog accidents. It has been scrubbed with bleach several times, but it will be much improved by thorough washing and a few days flapping in the sunshine.
Right, I am going to read my book.
I might be back tomorrow.
