Grub up

Of course as soon as Mark buzzes off, my car gets a flat tyre.

I rang him up and told him about it, and he said, cheerfully, that he had thought it looked a bit soft.

I had just spent a grim half hour kneeling in a puddle changing it for the not-flat one in the boot, and I was not pleased. It is not easy to get the spare wheel out of my boot because of the wheelchair ramps, and some complicated knob-twiddling was necessary, not to mention some swearing and shoving.

I got it out in the end and jacked the whole thing up. Fortunately Mark takes the wheels off so often that the bolts were nicely greased and unscrewed easily, but it was not a delightful pastime.

I had been on my way out to work, and I was filthy. It is not easy to change a wheel whilst wearing a pale blue jersey.

I had a wash before I left, but am still fairly grubby even now, some hours later, although it is going dark now so it does not matter.

It has been another day of tiddling about trying to reorganise my life into a recognisable shape. Of course Mark is away now, and so I have been able to drift happily back into all of my little routines, standing on one leg before bedtime, and other such solitary peculiarities. Of course I would like it better if Mark was here, but he is not, and so I have decided to enjoy the peace and quiet.

I took the dogs up the fell this morning, for the first time for ages. This might have been pleasanter had it not been for the biting wind and the spitting rain, it is not a very summery June this year so far, at least not here in the Lake District, and I came home and lit the fire. This was important because I had towels and sheets to be dried, and the garden was not exactly presenting itself as an accommodating site for them. Also nothing is nastier than having washing dangling around the house on a grey sort of day, damp and dreary. It is much nicer if there is a bright fire at its heart.

Mark called this evening to tell me that he has been sawing chunks off Lucy’s walls in order to fit her new kitchen. This was terribly dusty and so he was obliged to sellotape all her doors shut first. Lucy’s house is wonderfully built so that even all of the internal walls are made of cinder blocks. This means that anything can be screwed to them absolutely anywhere, without all the tiresome faffing about you have to do everywhere else, where you first have to find a batten before a tea towel hook can be screwed in, but they do make a terrible mess when you are taking them apart.

He waited until Lucy had gone to work before making the mess. He has been married for a long time and knows that some things are best done when men are by themselves.

I am very pleased that they are getting on with it. Mark can’t fix the camper van at the moment in any case, because it is Appleby Fair, and the chap who has the new axle has of course gone off there, to race sulkies and drink beer and smile at the pretty girls. We saw lots of gypsy vans heading north on our way back home, and sighed at the sad recollection that we can’t be travellers again just yet.

It will not be long. Once the fair is over we will have our axle, and we will be able to rescue the poor camper van.

I am looking forward to that day.

In the meantime I am going to go away and scrub my fingernails.