I have purchased some new wine glasses to replace the ones from the camper van.
I like these very much better, which is just as well, since they were stomach-shudderingly expensive, really I ought not to be allowed to bid for things on eBay without adult supervision.
Fortunately eBay just lets me buy anything I like and then automatically charges it to Mark’s credit card, so the whole uncomfortable guilt process is thoroughly washed away. It will be ages before I have got to worry about any of it and so I am not thinking about it.
I have also bought some new dungarees, at least, new to me, in a size ten, so I hope I do not get fat again soon, otherwise I will have been recklessly wasteful. I can, of course, still wear my comfortable size sixteen dungarees, and so really I had no need to downsize, as it were, but I thought that I would like to have a pair that did not quite admit so many draughts.
Now that I have some new wine glasses, or at least, I will have when they turn up in the post next week, I will have to consider what to do with the old, less lovely wine glasses. I do not think I have got cupboard space for them anywhere. I have not broken any wine glasses for ages, and so the shelves are full.
If anybody wants some wine glasses, although they do not come with built-in loveliness, do let me know.
Of course the wine glasses will have to stay wrapped up and packed away, along with everything else campervanny, for quite some time. We have not yet actually started on the labour of deconstructing and rebuilding it. I have been occupied with the emptying, and Mark has been building himself a functional workshop. I have insisted on this. Last time we rebuilt the camper van we spent a massive amount of time wandering around his enormous and quite astonishingly muddled shed, hunting for things that we had put down and then immediately lost. This time we are going to be more organised. Every drill, every paintbrush, every bucket of rusty, potentially-useful bolts, will have its place, and we will keep them there.
Really we will.
The packing process is coming along slowly, in between frivolous cash disposal on the mighty Internet. It did not rain today, and a sharp, chill breeze whipped at everybody’s coat and hair. I talked to my friend in Somerset on the Zoom thing the other day, and she was sitting in her garden wearing shorts. I was sitting by the fire in my woolly jumper, and things have not improved today. When I win the lottery I will go and live in the south, or at least purchase some more efficient thermal underwear. The Lake District summer is not encouraging.
All the same, it made a perfect climate for drying washing, which I did. I have washed lots of things, and by the end of today they were folded up and packed away in vacuum bags, and stored in boxes, rather reminiscent of illustrations of the dead before the Second Coming.
I cleaned my taxi as well. This was as revolting as it always is, with the horrible sticky detritus of dozens of intoxicated customers to be swabbed away. I was £2.30 wealthier when I had finished, which was pleasing, and it was rather splendid to come out to work this evening and get into a floral-scented paradise with no stray cigarette ends under the seats.
I am at work now. It is very late and everybody is glassy-eyed and staggering.
It might be almost time to go home.
See you on Sunday.
