Oh dearie me, very soon there will only be one.
We were awoken by the telephone this morning, and it was some agency wanting Mark to go and work in Norway for a fortnight, leaving on Sunday.
Some hasty sums later, we had agreed. He has not been at work since November, which is a long time. We have got enough cash to see us through, but only for another few weeks, and even if he goes to work on Sunday, it will take ages before anybody pays him. Companies do not rush into parting with their cash.
I am feeling downcast. I do not want him to go away, even if he were to come home with his hands running with gold, but there is no other choice, not really. I earned another twenty quid on the taxi rank last night, and soon we are going to have to start selling the children as well as the poopies.
Another one went today, a poopy not a child, obviously. The little black one has gone now. He was so enthusiastic about life that I was very sorry to see the back of him, even though he was endlessly underfoot and a determined eater of shoelaces. He liked the lady very much and bounded all over her trying to lick her face. He has certainly fallen on his paws. She said that the dogs sleep in her bed with her. Even his mother is not keen on letting him sleep in her bed.
The last one goes on Sunday. Instead of being an amorphous mass of leaking poopies they have now become Poppy, Ludo, Ted and Coco, which are the names bestowed upon them by their new owners. They have gone off to live new and exciting lives with other people, and we will never know what happens to them.
Except Poppy, of course. She has stayed in the family.
Lucy’s new car is not finished yet, talking of that branch of the family. It has been a massive job. Lots of jobs, actually, there was the clutch and the water pump and the timing chain and the new springs and an awful lot of other things that I didn’t really listen to and therefore can’t remember, and poor Mark has been out there in the cold all day again. He has got to get it finished tonight, because tomorrow he was hoping to haul some firewood, and then I think we will be going to take it to Lucy’s tomorrow night.
I am saying We will be going, but of course there is no reason for me to go, and in the interests of economy probably I ought to stay at home and go to work, not that there is very much point at the moment. We will have to see.
I am also saying that He was hoping to haul some firewood, but I don’t think he wants to do it very much at all. He is going to try and manage it before he goes so that I can be warm in his absence, but if he doesn’t get round to it then I will have to do it myself.
I don’t want to do it very much either. I have got my fingers crossed that he manages to finish the car tonight.
Here is a Live Update.
Whilst I have been writing Lucy has called to say that she and Jack will come and see us later tonight, and take the car back with them tomorrow, so as soon as they are nearly here I am going to stop loafing about uselessly in a taxi and go home. It is absolutely brilliant news, and something of a massive relief, because they will be able to help us tomorrow. I am trying to finish their curtains, and Mark is trying to finish the car, so if they come and help then everything should be much easier.
There. That is a Happy Ever After.
Next time we meet I shall be by myself again.
Just me and the dogs.
