Nil Interruptus

I am on the taxi rank.

I usually try and get these pages written before I set off for work, so I can have a tranquil evening, loafing about with my book and my cup of chai, because it is terribly irritating to be thoughtfully composing deathless prose and to be endlessly interrupted by people with bad legs wanting to go to the first three syllables of Aphrodite’s Lodge.

Tonight, however, I was rushing, so much there wasn’t time, and you are going to have to put up with interrupted prose.

My apologies in advance.

Actually, it probably won’t be interrupted very often, Monday nights in December are not generally remarkable for their customer base of wild party-goers, and so I am hoping that once I have written to you there will still be some time left to get on with composing my Christmas card.

I have had a very busy day. I even got up early, because I had to go into Kendal.

It was the Day when the council was deciding whether or not they would kindly licence Mark’s taxi again for another year.

It is ten years old, and was supposed to be put out to pasture, but we have bought one new taxi, a new truck, and a new car for Oliver this year already, and hence the thought of purchasing yet another vehicle made me feel slightly sick. Hence you might recall that some weeks ago Mark was instructed to make it beautiful and lovely and make sure that everything worked properly, whilst I assured the council that it was in exceptional condition for its age and deserved another year of life.

I am not sure if that was strictly true, but certainly once it had been properly valeted and all the scrapes polished out it looked quite surprisingly respectable, and today was the day for the council to consider it.

I had to go and put my case.

Of course that is a bit ridiculous, because there isn’t much you can say about a taxi, and indeed, when I addressed the mighty Committee I heard all sorts of garbage spilling out of my mouth. I told them that it had a wheel on each corner and started and stopped when it should, which had the merit of at least being true, even if it did make me sound a bit half-witted.

One of the committee remarked that the seats looked very worn, and I realised to my horror that Mark had not bothered to install the new seat covers before taking the photographs of it. My mouth opened and closed rather gormlessly a few times, before I managed to stop thinking about murder and explained politely that the new seat covers had not arrived in time for the photographs. I assured the Committee that they were installed now, which turned out not to be true when I got hold of Mark afterwards, but jolly well will be before he goes out to work in it again, and they rolled their eyes and passed it anyway, to my colossal relief.

After that I went Christmas shopping, and bought myself some new socks. I had hoped for socks for Christmas, but the holes in my existing ones have become so uncomfortably large that I felt that I could not wait any longer, so I have bought them for me as a Christmas present.

It might be my only Christmas present at this rate. I have made a list, and am just waiting for people to ask me what I would like, but so far nobody has. I don’t mind this because I do not have any scruples about buying presents for myself, and I have every intention of doing so once January comes around.

After that I went to Autoparts, and I am excited to tell you that I purchased and fitted a new headlamp bulb all by myself.

Really. I did not ask Oliver to help or anything.

He worked all night and was in bed anyway.

It took ages and my fingers are still sore, but I have done it.

I am truly an Independent Woman.

I am also pleased to tell you that I might have solved the rat problem. The poison was gone again this morning, which says that there have been quite a few of them, but I have found where they were getting in and I have bricked it up. I do not think there are any still hiding in the conservatory, but I will put some more poison in the plant beds tomorrow and that should finish them off.

Really I have become heartless, poor rats. They do not mean to be a nuisance, they are just getting on with their own ratty lives, and probably would be very upset to find out that they are about to be killed for it, but I cannot allow myself to feel sympathy. I am going to need the conservatory for Christmas.

I am going to water it and scrub it all down with bleach tomorrow.

That should sort it out.

I wasn’t interrupted at all.