Mark is coming home.
He is a day early because of not having the tiresome log book, and so can’t do the final assessment tomorrow. He is going to have to do that next week.
He is back up there next week anyway so this is not a great hardship.
He is not home yet. He will be home any time now so I thought I would start writing this early and get it out of the way. This is not so much because I am expecting an evening of passion with my newly-returned husband, but because I am perfectly well aware that the camper van is going to need a thorough clean and, somehow, all of the water emptying out of it.
I am not exactly sure how we are going to manage this. It is more than obvious that any water emptied anywhere is going to turn into an immediate arctic plateau, lethally hazardous in its nature. Nevertheless, we cannot leave the water in the van. It would freeze and burst all of the pipes in an instant. We will have to think of something.
Also there is the fridge to be emptied and the shower to be cleaned, and everywhere made clean and beautiful for his next departure, on Sunday evening. This is not very far away.
I imagine it is still just as cold where you are as it is here, that is, unless you are a gloriously fortunate Californian reader. I would like to say here that if you are, you have my heartfelt envy. Cumbria was the coldest place in the country last night, with temperatures of -11 recorded on Shap, at the other side of Kendal.
I was not in the least tempted to take the dogs for another long walk today. It turns out that I am rather more elderly than I had given myself credit for, and today my bones are aching after yesterday’s dozen jarring falls. I was hoping for some spectacular bruising as consolation, but disappointingly there is nothing, just a wearisome ache. A lot of wearisome aches, and nothing to show for them, sometimes the world is unjust.
Hence today I have had a less energy-depleting day. We have had some short walks, around the park and the Library Gardens, and they were quite dangerous enough, and I waddled cautiously all the way. Even the dogs have become bored at being suddenly catapulted off their feet, and were proceeding with great care. After that I spent an hour sawing up firewood, and then retreated upstairs to write my story.
I am quite sorry Mark is coming back from that point of view. He has just about been gone long enough for me to finish clearing up after him and make a start on my own projects, and now he is going to be back again, eating sausages and potatoes and all sorts of things that require cooking. When he is not eating he will be making a mess all over the place. It will be pleasant not to have to saw up the firewood, but I have had a lovely day today, with nothing to think about other than my heroine and her adventures.
I have even managed to get half of my college work done. We have got an online class next week and I have done nearly – not quite – all of the preparation. I am feeling very self-satisfied about this. I might not understand the right way to tackle climate change by appreciating the disabled, but at least I have done my homework.
It has really been a very nice day indeed. I have kept the fire roaring hot, and the teapot on the top of it, and I have pondered and written and pondered a bit more. The dogs snored peacefully at my feet and the cats menaced around the garden, hunting the rats and contemplating the birds thoughtfully. It is a good job they can’t fly.
I could quite cheerfully occupy my whole life like this.
The world is very much nicer when you are indoors and nowhere near it.
