It is the middle of the night and so a very few words will be written on these pages tonight.
I am sorry to say that this is not because I have been so frantically busy at work that I have hardly had time to jot down a few pensive contemplations. It is because we have had a night off. Elspeth came over and brought some French cheese and wine with her. She has been skiing in France and hence is in possession of such foreign delicacies.
I have never been skiing but I nodded politely when she explained about different sorts of skis and bindings and blue runs and beer in the sunshine. Number Two Daughter tells me these things as well, and I nod politely at her too. I am sure skiing would be lovely but Elspeth said firmly that it would be too late for me to start now at my advanced doddery old age, so I suppose that is that and I shall either have to be reincarnated in Switzerland or give up on the idea.
I have never been able to afford it anyway.
Elspeth has been skiing twice this winter and looked brown and pleased with the world. Also the cheese was very nice, and I remembered that good food is always one of the best bits of going on holiday anyway, so we got the benefit of that without even needing to worry about remembering passports or paying excess baggage charges. Life is splendid.
I have not spent all day listening to Elspeth telling me about sliding down hills. I made ginger-and-brandy cakes, coffee-and-pistachio-nut chocolates, mayonnaise and fudge. It was a good job that Elspeth brought the cheese because I could not be bothered to cook dinner after all that lot, and Oliver had to make do with cheese on toast.
I took Oliver to the orthodontist today. She thinks she will be able to take his brace out in just a few more months, which was brilliant news, although I have to say it feels as if he has only had it in for five minutes. I do not suppose he feels like that but from a spectator’s point of view it seems that it has hardly started.
After the orthodontist we went shopping, and Oliver pushed the trolley and carried the bags without even being asked, which was so splendidly lovely it made me feel a bit small and humbled. I have got some very nice children.
We bought everything we needed for the weekend and then ran out of money, but I do not care because I am beginning to feel that Easter can just do its worst. We have got cakes and pies and everything nice, and so we can just carry on living well even if we have got to spend every single waking minute driving taxis.
I have got a good book and bought an enormous bag of leaf-chai for my flask.
It will just be fine.
I am going to go to bed.
