Hello, and apologies for my thoughtless absence last night, which was in consequence of idleness and indifference.
Some days I am just wicked.
I absolutely and completely could not be bothered to start composing seven hundred words of captivating and enthralling prose, or even writing in here, so I didn’t. Instead I nursed my colossal migraine, and my sore foot, and kept Mark company, in a self-pitying sort of way, on our Epic Journey Back South.
We had a brilliant day, though. I mean truly splendid.
We almost got to school on whatever night it was, it is so long ago that I can hardly remember now, but I think probably Wednesday, the last time I wrote to you. We leaped into the camper van as soon as Mark got home from work, since it had been lovingly and thoughtfully packed and prepared by me during the day. I had left a picnic in the cab and two flasks of my very favourite chai tea under the seats. I do not know if it is Mark’s favourite tea but he drinks it anyway, and he is perfectly able to say so if he would prefer PG Tips.
He had jolly well better not, though,
Anyway, we showered and dashed off, wearing the clean clothes that I had helpfully laid out for us, and by some ghastly hour in the middle of the night we were on the top of a deserted mountain somewhere in the Cairngorms, and we stopped for the night.
This meant that when we woke up we were only an hour away from school, and still had a flask of tea left, so we had tea for breakfast and ploughed slowly down the winding descent into Moray, through the woods and over the little stone bridges in the bright morning sunshine.
We were early, so we stopped by the beach and went for a long walk and a paddle.
For the interested, actually I mean my mother who fusses about this sort of thing. No, I didn’t wear my disability boot, and no, it probably didn’t do any damage, and in any case I have got some super-strength holiday drugs which made it all go with a joyous swing, so it was fine, you do not need to worry. We ambled slowly along the shore, dipping our toes in the icy sea, and felt very happy.
It was brilliant, beautiful warm sunshine, and the dogs cavorted about plunging in and out of the surf and trying to eat vile-smelling dead things. We walked until it was time to go and collect Oliver.
Obviously he was delighted to see the camper van chugging noisily up the drive, and better still, we have got the special klaxon clown-car horn fixed now, so we could honk it every time we passed some of his friends on the drive. He especially liked this, so much that he had to hide under the seat to contain his happiness.
He seems to have had a happy term so far, although he has been doing exams. He is tall and sensible and grown up, and we couldn’t bear to leave the sunshine so soon, so we went back to the beach for a last paddle before we set off.
It was late when we left, and the migraine that had been lurking threateningly for a couple of days on the left side of my head, finally burst into brilliant, flashing life, probably encouraged by the sunshine. I couldn’t bear the glare of sunshine-reflecting-on-motorway, so I lurked in the back for the first part of the journey, whilst Mark and Oliver chattered about man-things and played peculiar music in the front.
Oliver and I exchanged places when it went dark, and he collapsed into bed, being exhausted from half a term of going for early morning runs, swimming in the sea, and revising for exams. I sat with Mark, and we listened to Lark Rise To Candleford for the rest of the journey.
Audible have wickedly split this up into three books, so you have got to pay for it three times, which I thought was a scandalous cheat. I have read it lots of times, it is one of my very favourite books, partly because it has nothing in it about which one needs to feel worried. I do not need to look at the end so that I am relieved of the anxiety about Who Did It, because nobody does anything at all for the whole of the book, which makes it a very happy read. I like uneventful books very much. This is a difficulty when writing my own stories, because if I want anybody else to read them, I have got to include some jeopardy, preferably in the first sentence, which is always upsetting, and sometimes I worry that I might die before I get to the end, and never find out what happens.
It was almost three in the morning when we got back, and we were so exhausted we just dumped the camper van without cleaning it or even looking at it, and it was a good job we had decided to carry on all the way, because when we stopped we discovered that we had got a flat tyre. This was not too bad whilst we were moving, but turned into a soggy rubbery mound as soon as we stopped, so it was a jolly good thing to be at home and not halfway across the Cairngorms.
We have cleaned it out now, and blown up the tyre, which will have to be replaced before next weekend when we go back, because it has got a hole in it.
My migraine has begun to disperse tonight. I can hardly tell you the happiness of not having a headache. There is no greater joy in life. If you do not have a headache, take a few moments right now to think how very lovely that feels.
If you do have a headache and it is alcohol related, it serves you right.
See you on Sunday.
