It has been a day of knitting.
How very peaceful and tranquil this has been.
I have spent my day sitting contentedly in the passenger seat of the camper van, knitting my new cardigan, listening happily to Vanity Fair on the speakers, and watching the wilds of Scotland flashing by.
Perhaps not quite flashing, there have been no peculiar undressed middle aged blokes at the side of the road on this trip so far.
Indeed, it has been without incident, apart from one brief and terrible incident somewhere around Blair Atholl when we suddenly realised that Rosie was about to be sick.
She has never been sick before and her consternation almost matched mine.
Mine was dreadful to behold.
I held her upright, frantically stroking her throat in the other direction, staring into her wide open eyes and bellowing No, Rosie, No, No, No, which almost did the trick, because only the tiniest spot escaped her before we reached the parking space and hurled her out onto the grass verge, at which point she practically exploded.
I cleaned up the misfortune, which only took a second or two and a squirt of Anti Dog Sick Spray, whilst Mark stood at the side of the van and laughed.
The dogs were all very upset, and Roger Poopy went and hid in the long grass a little way away. We told them that they were all good dogs really, but they were not convinced, and went to hide under the bed in the back of the van, where they quivered miserably for a while before forgetting all about it and came skulking back out to see if they were still allowed to be in the front.
Rosie had never been sick before, and was feeling very sorry about it all. Of course we let them come back in, and indeed climb guiltily back on to the seat, but I was mildly sorry their guilt had not lasted longer because it had been lovely to have so much room with no dogs in it, to stretch out my feet and knit without poking anybody.
At the time of writing we are still not there, although I imagine I will be finishing this off when we actually are. We are still on the road. I did not want to have to come home from the Parents’ Dinner, full of red wine and salmon, and start some bleary-eyed midnight warbling. We are somewhere in the Cairngorms, and making such good time that we think we will be able to manage a walk before dinner. We might even see Oliver. I would like that. He has been doing lots of interesting things this term, and I am dying to hear all about them.
I will tell you later on if I do…
LATER NOTE: Dearie me, I am intoxicated.
Gordonstoun is lovely.The Headmaster is lovely and I told him so. There was a huge dinner and it was gorgeous, we had prawns in lime and coriander, and then some amazing beef and then something I forget what with meringue. There was as much as we could drink which was a lot.
I have had the happiest time. There are some lovely parents at Gordonstoun and the Headmaster is lovely and taller than I remember and very polite.
I am very happy and have drunk a loot.
We had a walk on the beach as well but it was ages ago. I might write again tomorrow. Gordonstoun is lovely and we have had the nicest time and been on our best middle class behaviour apart from perhaps drinking a bit much but that didn’t matter I think
Happy whatever day it is next xxxx
