Mark has gone.
This came as something of a surprise, when an email arrived at two this afternoon, requesting that he check in to the helicopter port at Aberdeen Airport at half past nine tomorrow morning.
There was an immediate rush of form-filling and packing. That is to say, I masqueraded as Mark and did the form-filling, because Mark wasn’t there, he was over at the shed constructing his camper van workbench. There wasn’t much packing to be done really, because he keeps all of his offshore things ready packed in two helicopter-sized bags. I prefer not to be helpful with this because he is a functional grown-up and also I do not wish for it to be my fault should he finish up in the middle of the North Sea without a toothbrush.
We were surprised, although also relieved, because he was supposed to go off on a job last Sunday which was unexpectedly cancelled, and so all the usual worries about starving to death and having to sell off the children and the house had instantly materialised.
I do not want to sell the house. The front door has still got everything missing from it like the letter box and the lock and the paint. I do not think this would help to persuade potential customers that it has been tenderly cared for during our tenure.
Fortunately we do not have to sell the house, and so I can live with the front door, not least because I never use it. The postman uses it, but he does not mind either, although he keeps remarking on how long it is taking to do the painting. I think this is because the chap who has been painting it might have gone back to prison. It is a while since we have seen him and we know that his probation officer cuts up rough when he forgets about his appointments.
I hope he is not in prison. He is a nice sort of chap.
Probably he will turn up again in the end.
Anyway, all financial worries have now been assuaged by Mark’s new employment, and I am on my own again with the detritus of his time at home to be cleared up.
There is a lot of this not just because of Mark’s generally cluttery presence, but also because I have been emptying the camper van. There are boxes and boxes of camper van things, still being investigated and sorted out. At the moment this is my current job of the day, every single day, in between clean sheets and dusting. The conservatory is full of camper van things needing to be either thrown away, like the worn out socks and the towel with the suspicious yellow stain on it, or, like the teapot and the lovely plate racks my brother made, saved for the glorious day when the camper van is finally repaired.
That day might be some time off because we haven’t actually started yet.
We have made some rather splendid plans, however. We think our decorative theme might be based on trying to make it look like the wonderful interior of the Orient Express. As you might know, this is a lavishly decadent form of transport liberally decorated with inlaid walnut and mahogany, so this week we have spent our spare taxi rank moments investigating how you might inlay things. We have concluded that it can’t be all that difficult so we are going to have a go when we get to that bit. I will keep you posted if we get our act together
In fact I have spent much of today reorganising our lives after the weekend. That is to say, there has been laundry and a trip to Booths, much of which had to be shoved in the freezer when we learned of Mark’s imminent departure, the shopping from Booths, I mean, not the laundry, obviously. The laundry is everywhere. Some of it is still pegged on the washing line even now, and it has gone dark.
I will sort it out when I get home. I am by myself now. I will have to set my life back on its quiet, ordered little tracks again. I am feeling optimistic about this.
There is an enormous pile of clutter.
It might take me a few days.
