I am a pedestrian.
We took my car in to the garage late last night, at around eleven o’clock when we had got fed up of sitting about the taxi rank waiting for drunk people to decide whether or not they might get a taxi or just hang around hoping for a bus.
I had just parked my car on the garage forecourt. Very fortunately, as I was about to post my keys through the letterbox, the taxi driver who had kindly taken me there, said helpfully: Have you taken everything out of your car? Last time I left my phone in mine.
I realised to my horror that I had indeed left my phone in it, and thus was saved by a very fortuitous reminder. Had it not been for that I would have been unable to talk to all of the people who have called me since. There have been a lot of them, and probably someone would have thought I was dead and would have called the police to see if I was lying in a crushed and bleeding heap at the foot of a ladder.
I was suitably appalled at the almost-omission, and was very grateful to the other taxi driver, whose name is Z, by the way. Taxi drivers have unusual names, when I met Mark he was called Red Ten.
I was called Thirteen. We thought of one another by those names for quite some time. I remember confiding in friends of the time: There’s this bloke at work, called Red Ten, he’s – well – he’s quite nice.
The garage man had hoped it might be ready today, but had got caught up doing something else. This happens to me all the time so I understood perfectly, and so instead it is going to be ready tomorrow lunchtime. I did not find this out from the garage but from another taxi driver who rang to tell me about it and to say that he was going to go to Kendal for a school run tomorrow and would be able to pick me up and take me with him if I liked, so that I would not have to go on the horrible train.
I had never thought how very kind and splendid taxi drivers could be. I have been humbled and grateful.
Hence I am still a pedestrian, and very peculiar it is as well. I discovered this evening that I do not have the first idea what people do when they are not driving taxis in the evening and are by themselves. Indeed, I have known taxi drivers forced into retirement who have spent their evenings ambling down to the taxi rank just to hang about and chat. I always thought they were mental but suddenly I can see how it might happen.
I was quite determined that I would not be that mental, and instead have spent the evening sewing. I have done some mending and made myself a new peg bag, because the old one never recovered from Rosie eating a hole in it when she was a puppy. I have been meaning to do this for ages, but like the man at the garage, kept getting caught up doing something else.
I was very pleased with myself when I had finished, because of it being lots of tiresome little jobs finally cleared out of the way, but then when I went downstairs to wash Mark’s old cap I discovered it had split along one of the seams, so I will have to do some more mending tomorrow after all.
I have been washing things. One of the things to be spring-cleaned today was the coat rack.
It has been another glorious day, not hot, exactly, but sunny and cheery and warm. I set off early to take the dogs over the fells in case it got too hot later, but it didn’t. I was not concentrating when I set off, and completely forgot to change into my boots. I could not be bothered to go back when I realised, and walked round in my flip-flops, carrying them and walking barefoot when there was not too much cow poo and mud, and it was splendid. I had to stop in the beck to wash my legs clean, but the grass was cool under my feet, and it is much nicer to walk without wearing enormous heavy boots.
I took a picture when I got to the top of the second fell, so I have added it here.
It was a very splendid walk.
