Clocking off

The wretched clocks have changed.

This, obviously, has meant we have been late for everything all day. We have not gone to work yet but I can absolutely promise you we will be late for that as well.

I loathe going to work in daylight. It seems like such a shocking waste of sunshine.

We didn’t get much sunshine in any case because we were so late getting up. It should have been morning, but it wasn’t, it was afternoon. I really don’t see what is wrong with Greenwich Mean Time. The seems to me to be a perfectly functional way of arranging my life, and it fits very well with my natural sleeping pattern. I am going to have weeks and weeks of being gritty-eyed and grumpy.

I have blamed the government.

Still, when we did eventually get up, some nice things happened. Mark had brought me some Mothers’ Day flowers and Number One Daughter had sent me a gift token for some new dungarees. I have not bought any yet but it is rather nice to know that I could if I wanted to, what a splendid thing.

It is lovely to have nice things in my future.

Of course we worked last night, being Saturday, and so were never going to get up early in any case. When we did get up we were so late that I decided not to bother going off over the fells, and was idle instead. This made me feel guilty but it was worth it, it turns out that my conscience is as easily silenced as Boris Johnson’s principles about civil liberties when he thought that lockdowns would get him some more votes.

Instead we had coffee in bed and then took a trip out to have a look around some derelict farm buildings.

This was far more exciting than it sounds.

It looks as though they might be up for rent.

We are, as I am sure you agree, short of derelict farm buildings.

Actually we really, truly are. The camper van is in serious need of some renovation and repair. If I am brutally honest, it needs to come off the road for a couple of years, so that the inside can be dragged out and all the rotten bits replaced, and the outside can be patched up and all of the rust sanded away.

The thing is that we know that it is now so crumbly that it is merely a matter of time before the cab falls off. This would take some explaining to a traffic policeman in the middle of a rust-strewn motorway, and is not a conversation I am very keen to have.

I know it doesn’t sound like very long since we last pulled it apart, but actually it is almost ten years, longer for some parts. The outside – and this is the shocking thing – needs to have all the rusty bits cut out, some new bits welded in, and then it needs to be completely repainted.

This is a terrifying, scary thing.

I am going to have to sand all of my pictures off and paint some more.

I am half horrified, half excited about this.

I am torn between grieving for the loss of the current pictures and excited about doing something new.

Actually, excited is the biggest feeling. If we have got somewhere under cover where we can work on it and I can sit on a heap of tyres and paint, then I will have a very happy time. I like painting.

A heap of tyres is absolutely the best way of doing it. I can add them on to get to the top of the van and pull them off as I get lower and lower down.

We have been talking about this for the last few days.

It has occurred to us that we could probably take Lucy’s bunk down. We both got enormous lumps in our throats when we thought of doing this, but actually Lucy and Jack won’t both fit in it and wouldn’t be at all likely to come of holiday with us even if they would. If they are going to go on holiday in the camper van then probably they would just borrow it and that would be that.

If it has been all redone then they could do just that.

All the same it is terribly sad to think that our days of having family riots on Blackpool beach are really and truly over.

Oliver’s bunk is still there because it is over the top of the cab. We thought we might turn that back into a double bed again since he is bigger than he was and if ever the children did want to join us on holiday then perhaps they could sleep on that.

We thought they probably don’t need the Playstation any more.

Hence this afternoon we went, tentatively, to poke around some derelict farm buildings which might be up for rent, and to see if they would be suitable.

They would be suitable, and Mark is going to telephone the agent tomorrow.

I am both scared and excited. It is going to be an absolutely massive project, but it would be so wonderfully lovely to have the camper van feeling bright and fresh again.

It has lasted such a long time.

It would be terribly sad for it to clock off now.