I am writing in a brief window not only between taxi customers, but whilst I am waiting for Mark to come home.
He has called from Kendal to tell me that he is almost back, but fortunately I was on the taxi rank and not anywhere in close proximity where I might be expected to assist in cleaning out the camper van and emptying the loo.
I know this is terrifically uncharitable and unwelcoming of me, but experience has taught me that I am far less pleased to see him when the first thing that happens on his arrival is an hour’s scrubbing and hoovering. This makes me feel decidedly grumpy and irritable. Hence it is better to be on the taxi rank. Some things are just nobler than I can bear.
I am sure he would be far more helpful if it was me, but he spends his entire life having somebody clean and tidy up after him, and so it will not be a great tragedy for him to do it for himself. He has just spent weeks and weeks on oil rigs where nothing more demanding than a bit of welding is being required of him, no cleaning, laundry or cooking, and let me remind you that Mark does welding for fun.
We had an interlude there. You had time to make another cup of coffee and I had a taxi run, with one of my nicer customers so it was a jolly event, and by the time I got back Mark had come home.
I was just setting off to the other end of the lake when he called, and so had plenty of time to avoid domestic duties, and by the time I got home he was unpacked and the camper van parked. His taxi was also parked, in the back alley with the battery on charge, because it had gone flat again, really his taxi is truly rubbish, and we were reunited. I am a bit rubbish at doing joyful reunifications. I was very pleased to see him but he does come with a lot of boots and overalls and untidy things.
Fortunately he knows that these things are upsetting, and had tidied it all neatly into the cupboards. In any case, he had left his boots on the oil rig because they had got radioactive waste on them and he thought they would be better not left lying about next to the dog basket for Rosie to chew.
I am now in bed. Mark is in the shower, and I am feeling a trifle anxious in case he does not do the bedtime routine properly. I have explained to him how to polish the taps when he has finished but I am not quite sure that he was paying proper attention. I also suggested that he might try standing on one leg, and explained the health benefits, but I suspect he will not bother.
I have often wondered, whilst polishing the bath taps at three in the morning on my way to bed, how many other people are doing the same. Probably not very many.
In other news, it has rained all day again, although fortunately it did not start until after we had got down off the fells this morning. I went to Booths after that, to lay in supplies for Mark’s return, of course he eats an awful lot. I am trying not to eat so much because I have become round again, and you will be astonished to hear that I have not eaten a single chocolate button for three days now. Mark has not helped this virtuous abstinence by bringing me an enormous pile of oil rig chocolate. It is in the fridge and I am trying not to think about it.
I got wet sawing firewood, but it did not matter, because I was indoors all day after that, finishing Lucy’s curtains. Much to my surprise, this turned out to be a quicker job than I had expected, although a trifle hairy because I think her cats had been sleeping on them, so I shoved them in the washing machine afterwards.
I had time on my hands then, and could get on with some of the work that is supposed to be handed in before I go to Cambridge next week. This was an unexpected bonus, and I had almost finished it by the time I had to get ready for work.
He has almost finished in the shower. I can hear him clattering about.
I might go and check that he hasn’t forgotten the taps.
