Well, it’s all happening here.
I am not in the Lake District any more. I am at Lucy’s.
I do like Lucy’s house. Not only that, I rather like the estate that she is living on. It is refreshingly empty of anybody trying snootily to be middle class, except me, obviously, although there are one or two whom I suspect might aspire to become working class one day. It is really rather splendidly peaceful and I like it. You could leave a rusty shopping trolley in the garden and nobody would complain, the world does not get more tolerant than that.
Also I do like the reggae music, and was rather disappointed when the neighbours closed their windows this evening, perhaps I ought to start playing some myself.
I am quietly settled in the tranquillity of her spare bedroom, and am feeling at peace with the world.
It has been something of a hasty day. Oliver and I had appointments at the dentist this morning. Mark had one as well, but obviously was not there. I sent the dentist an email alerting them to this absence last Friday, which as we know was Good Friday, but when we got there this morning they knew nothing about it, and the receptionist told me sniffily that I should have telephoned because they never read emails.
I did not dignify this with a response, although there were quite a few that occurred to me at the time.
After the dentist, Oliver went to work and I dashed about trying to think of all of the useful things that Lucy would like me to bring. I had visited the splendid Messrs. Marks and Spencer whilst in Kendal yesterday, and purchased some ready-meals for her so that she will not starve to death when she goes back to work next week. I confess that I have never in my life bought a ready-meal, and I was intrigued and charmed at the whole idea.
They are marvellous inventions, a complete dinner in a little plastic pot which you just shove in the microwave. When you take it out you can just eat it straight out of the pot, so you do not even need to bother washing up, because the pot just goes in the dustbin, unless you want to save it to plant your little seeds in in a few weeks, they seemed perfectly robust enough for that. Anyway, they looked really quite marvellous. There were lots and lots of choices, things like lasagna and meatballs and tuna-with-pasta and something mushroomy. I couldn’t make my mind up which might be the nicest, so I bought a couple of all of them, and some for Oliver as well so that he does not starve to death whilst I am away in Manchester.
I had no idea that parenting could turn out to be so uncomplicated. All of my responsibilities thoroughly fulfilled in a single plastic oven-ready dish, what a breeze this modern living has become, and I felt very virtuously pleased with myself for having efficiently nurtured my offspring with no effort whatsoever.
Once I was packed and ready I had to leave the house ready for us all to return. Observant readers will have noticed that so far this week I had done no dusting at all, which really needed to be remedied before I left. I do not wish to come home to a house which looks as if you might find Miss Havisham lurking in some neglected corner, so I belted around doing high-speed dusting and hoovering. I don’t suppose this was very effective but it cleaned out my guilty conscience.
After that I came to Lucy’s, and we screwed a mirror to her bedroom wall and then screwed a long plank over the top of the living room window, ready to hang a curtain rail as soon as we get round to it. We have got a very lot more to do tomorrow, so I am going to go to sleep in a few minutes.
She has done lots of painting in my absence, and really it is all looking very nice indeed. Well, it is looking considerably better than it was, at any rate.
It is going to be a lovely house.
