Well, my first day of solitude, and how pleasantly unremarkable it has been.
Mark got on the helicopter to the oil rig. I know that because Number One Son-In-Law, who was waiting to get off that very same oil rig, sent me a text to tell me that the helicopter had taken off from the shores of Scotland, and that Mark was on it. I texted back with some romantic message which I was quite sure he would not pass on in the middle of a heli-deck full of unshaven blokes, but it amused me to imagine the scene.
I was, at the time, emptying the dogs and contemplating my future, secure in the glorious pleasure of having nothing to do all day other than to write my story, and feeling that some Welcome To My New Life was called for.
It was not as exciting as Mark’s welcome to his new life, that is to say, I did not have a bag full of new overalls and a ride in a helicopter, but it felt pretty splendid anyway.
I decided that since there would be nobody else around to look after me for a few weeks I would have to do it myself, and I was going to make a jolly good job of it.
I considered this for a while, and then I went to Booths.
I bought some ethical yoghurt and bananas and carrots and grapes. Then I thought that the trolley looked uninspiringly healthy, so I added some eggs and bacon and chocolate buttons, just to make sure I was getting a decent balance of all the food groups.
When I got home I boiled the eggs, and cut the bacon into bits with some mushrooms, which I fried. I chopped the eggs into little pieces and mixed the whole lot together to be microwaved into exciting sandwich fillings for the rest of the week. I made it look healthy and middle-class by covering the bowl with a waxed cloth with pictures of bees on it. This is a handy household hint, actually. You can make any old rubbish look as though it is good for you if you do this.
Then I had the bananas, yoghurt and chocolate buttons for breakfast.
I had some more later.
After that I cut some more firewood, and cleaned and swept and refilled the stove,and when I came in I threw my trousers away.
I have been wearing two alternate pairs of dungarees for ages and ages now, and last night I realised that they had become thinner than the sort of sheet which is too worn even to be a kitchen cloth, and has to be cut up and saved for dog-accidents, after which it can be burned with a clear conscience.
I could see through them in places. They were terribly thin, so I chucked them out.
Actually I did not really chuck them out. I am not that reckless. I put them in the paint cupboard in case I ever do any painting and need some trousers which can be thrown away afterwards, a sort of sartorial version of a dog-sick cloth.
When I had done that I went on to the mighty Internet and ordered some more. I did not even order second-hand ones, which is my usual manner of clothes purchase. I ordered a pair of new trousers, and so I am going to go to work early because the credit-card bill will be arriving in a couple of days.
I was just feeling smug with myself when the computer pinged again and it was my friend Amanda, wondering why I was not joining the Zoom call that we were due to have this afternoon. I had forgotten it because today, obviously, being the start of my week and new life, was Monday. It was a complete and total surprise to discover that it was not.
Really my life is rushing away quite astonishingly. Only this morning it was Monday and now here I am, nearly at the weekend.
Obviously some part of my subconscious did know what day it was, at least it knew yesterday although I had forgotten this morning, because you will be reassured to hear that I remembered to change the sheets yesterday. I am not so far fallen yet.
Away to work, and some dungaree money.
