Just a few words this evening because I am in a state of burned out mental weariness.
This is a modern illness that we have only had since young people were allowed to take their feelings seriously. It means that I could do with a bit more sleep, have had enough of Doing Things, and think that probably I would rather read my book than faff about with my computer.
We got up very early this morning. Oliver had got to be at work for eleven. The rain had lashed down on to the frozen pavements for half of the night, and it is a mile to the pub where he is currently employed, so Mark had said he would take him. Hence when the alarm went off, roughly four hours after we had set it, we were staggering and confused for some time.
We took the dogs round the park afterwards. It was snowing a bit, and the entire park was a sheet of ice. I have never slipped when walking on grass before. The puddles from yesterday’s heavy rain had frozen into an enormous slab of ice, covering practically the whole park.
The dogs crashed through it occasionally, landing in the unpleasantly cold puddles underneath, but they skated and slid along the unfamiliar surface with great enthusiasm.
We did not. We tottered along cautiously, aware that this would not be a good time to break a hip and need medical attention, and we were not at all sorry when we got back home, and could sigh with relief and peel off layers of jerseys in front of the fire.
Fortunately it is warming up now. It has rained so hard this afternoon that quite a lot of the ice has disappeared now, although not all, I have just had a scary almost-in-the-hedge experience along a farm track, but things are looking up. We can depart tomorrow without agonies of worry about the conservatory plants freezing once the stove has gone out.
Indeed, we go off to Manchester for the beautiful Midland and the pantomime tomorrow, and I am looking forward to it very much indeed.
After this morning’s Dog Emptying On Ice we fortified ourselves with apple whisky and mince pies for breakfast, and started to pack.
I have often thought it must be lots more fun to be King Charles’ valet than King Charles himself. I quite like the whole packing challenge, the neat orderliness of matching trousers and shirts and ties, and laying everything neatly flat. I folded and smoothed our clothes and filled gaps with rolled up socks. I packed our shoes in their boxes, or in linen bags, the toes jammed with tissue to stop them being crushed. I have pressed and scented our handkerchiefs and Mark’s ties, dry-cleaned dresses and jackets, and everything feels splendidly trim and neat.
I was hoping we might manage to look middle class, except that I found an oil mark on the sleeve of one of Mark’s beautiful Turnbull and Asser shirts, which has put paid to that. Honestly, I don’t know how he manages it, he is not allowed anywhere near engines when he is dressed up, it must seep out through his pores. I didn’t have time to do anything about it, he will just have to wear a jersey.
Mark cleaned shoes whilst I rushed round not forgetting things, nothing is worse than waking up after a night of cheery sociability and realising one has forgotten to pack clean underwear and painkillers.
Once I had thought I had remembered most things we went back to bed, where two hours later we were obliged to repeat the alarm clock experience, and staggered around groaning for the second time in the day.
We are at work now, poor Oliver has been at work all day and still has not rung us to get a lift home. He is going to sleep for our entire trip to Manchester at this rate.
I think we might all go home when he calls. We have got to make an early start in the morning because of putting the dogs in kennels before we leave. They will only let them come in up to eleven o’clock. If we don’t get out of bed in time they will have to come with us.
We don’t want that. The Midland would not be improved by an occasional dog accident.
Writing in these pages might be a bit hit and miss for a day or two. I will keep you updated in between bursts of conviviality and alcohol abuse.
See you soon.
