I did not wake up early.
Poor Jack had crawled out of bed at around six and struggled off to work, but I had the luxury of sleeping until ten. This was still only five hours, but it was jolly welcome.
I tottered out of bed and gazed in the mirror.
My eyes were bloodshot and my face was puffy. I looked like an elderly lady who had occupied most of the night getting into fights in the rain, because of course that was exactly what I was.
I put a Tiger Balm plaster on my wrist and sat around in my dressing gown, too weary to do anything much. The dogs had spent half of the night investigating Grasmere’s dustbins, and so were not perturbed by this, and flopped idly on their cushion, snoring occasionally.
Of course this state of affairs could not have been allowed to last, and eventually I pulled myself together.
I tugged my boots and raincoat on and we went up the fell, where I tried to let the cool autumn breezes clear my head and blow away my irritation, not terribly successfully.
I had just got back when the doorbell rang.
It was a nice gentleman who has been staying in the holiday house next door. They have been chatty in the back alley a couple of times, mostly because I wanted them to be absolutely clear about which was My Parking Space and therefore sacrosanct, but we had struck up a smiling acquaintance.
They were leaving to go back to wherever it is that people with almost incomprehensible Geordie accents hail from, and had very generously brought round the leftover contents of their fridge.
I don’t know what they have been eating all week but it was not their shopping. There were three shopping bags full.
Jack arrived home shortly afterwards. He had been cleaning a holiday house and had also brought home a sack of fridge-leftovers.
We suddenly had tons and tons of cheese and bread and pasta and bacon.
I am trying not to be fat, so I left Jack eating an enormous bowl of Coco Pops, courtesy of some sweet-toothed holidaymaker, and went upstairs.
I hunted out the number for the house into whose garden the keys had been hurled, and spoke to the lady on the telephone. She very kindly went out into the garden and searched for ages, but no car keys were to be found.
In the end I resolved that this state of affairs could not be allowed to continue, and when Jack sloped off back to bed, I took my remaining car keys and went to Kendal.
I went to Morrisons, where a very nice man at Timpsons made me a new car key and helpfully put some batteries in the one I already had. He did not charge me for the new batteries, out of sympathy when he heard the fate of my previous car key, which I thought was very kind of him, and my next job is to write to Timpsons and tell them what splendid staff they are employing.
Then I went over to the garage, where I filled up with fuel, and then went round to the car wash.
I cleaned my car. Then I hoovered it out. After twenty minutes, no traces of my horrid customer were left. Even his vaping thing, which I found on the back seat, was picked up between finger and thumb and dumped in the dustbin. He was gone, and the mud from his boots rinsed down Morrisons’ drain.
I felt very much better afterwards. Indeed, I felt so light-hearted that I was positively elated.
I was so cheerful that I tootled round to Marks and Spencer, to their wonderful fish counter.
I am now having smoked trout, and wild smoked salmon with cream cheese for my taxi picnic, and feeling restored to tranquillity.
There are lots of very lovely people in the world, and it is a splendid place after all.
