I am on the taxi rank and so is Mark.
He only arrived a very little while ago, and so we have not had much chance to talk just yet, but he is here.
He collected Oliver on his way back, and so they both arrived home together.
Oliver had been for an Army assessment in Edinburgh. This turned into something of an event, because the Army had very thoughtfully booked him a train ticket to get there.
Oliver said that trains could not possibly be as bad as I said they were and so elected to accept the train ticket rather than drive himself to Edinburgh.
This meant he had got to get to the train station.
There is a station in Windermere, but had he caught the train from there he would have had to wait for half an hour in the dreary chill of Oxenholme station, so I volunteered to take him straight to Oxenholme instead. The very obvious problem with trains is that they do not leave from just outside your own house.
This meant that we had to set our alarms for half past five in the morning.
I had some misgivings about this as I was crawling into bed just after one, and they turned out to be well-founded, because I did not feel very energetic at all when the alarm went off.
Worse, it was Clean Sheets Day, so I had to shove the sheets into the washing machine as soon as I had vacated their warm embrace, which meant that sloping off back to bed later was not going to be an easily manageable option.
I left Oliver at the station, presumably to sleep it off on the way to Edinburgh, and chugged back home, where I dragged my boots on and stumped off over the fells with the dogs, by way of getting it over and done with. This was a waste of a nice morning, because I was still too bleary-eyed to do much more than register the warm sunshine and the lilting voices of the skylarks, although I did remember to check to see if the tadpoles had got any legs yet.
They hadn’t. I do hope they wait until we get back from London, it would be sad to miss it.
When I got home I cleaned up all of the accidental cat-guffs and pegged the sheets on the line and went to the post office, but I was too tired to do anything sensible. Eventually I gave in, and crawled underneath the duvet anyway, uncovered as it was.
I was woken with a start at half past twelve, when Mark called to tell me that his helicopter had landed, and after that everything was a frantic rush.
I had got all of our packing to do, and everything to be left spotless and tidy for Oliver. There had to be food in the fridge and wood stacked at the side of the stove, and not a cat-guff anywhere.
This last took some time, because of course poor Guffy is still not getting any better. She makes gargantuan efforts to reach either the litter tray or at least a handy plant pot, but alas, she often leaks as she is making the sudden, frantic dash.
I am sympathetic if not exactly ecstatic about this. It is a very misfortunate affliction for all concerned.
I hunted down all the tiniest splashes I could find, and scrubbed and mopped until everywhere smelled of bleach and not of dreadful cat accidents.
In the end the house was clean, and Guffy, who, I am sad to say, knows that she is a failed cat, went to curl up resignedly in the garden. I would have liked to call her in, but it was so nice to know that the house would not be filled up with further trails of poo-splashes, I left her where she was.
After that I packed. This was a frantic rush, because I was getting very late by then, and so I have not quite finished, and suspect there will be rather a lot of things I have forgotten. I forgot all about the shorts that I bought yesterday and had to shove them into a squished corner at the end, but we have got clean shirts and underwear and will not need to walk around in the nude, at least not as long as it doesn’t rain too much.
We are leaving tomorrow, it is really upon us. The house is clean and the sheets are back on the bed and our bags are full and waiting by the door.
It is going to be a splendid adventure.
