Oliver spent yesterday galumphing around Windermere’s tree-top activity centre with a friend from school. When they had exhausted zip-slides and treetop nets and trampolines they went off to swim in the lake.
In the end, after a thrilling day out, when they were too exhausted to do anything else, they came back to our house and collapsed in front of the Play Station.
This was splendid, except that the friend was going sailing today, and had to leave at nine o’ clock in the morning.
We do not usually get up at nine o’ clock in the morning after a busy Saturday night, especially when the house is not on fire.
Fortunately, in a moment of astonishing generosity, Number Two Daughter had offered to get up early and drive a taxi for somebody all day, and volunteered to be responsible for breakfast.
This was a colossal relief. It would have been dreadful to have had to dispatch the school friend for a busy day’s sailing having consumed a breakfast prepared by Oliver. Oliver’s idea of self-catering usually involves Haribos and apple juice.
Of course we set our alarm as well, just to make sure that no emergencies were in progress, but it appeared that everybody had actually got up, and Number Two Daughter was preparing hot buttered crumpets for them both, which seemed like a decent breakfast. We went back to bed.
The next time we stirred it was one in the afternoon, and by the time we had organised and drunk coffee it was two.
This did not leave a great deal of day.
Mark experimented with the tent, but despite the warm sunshine, there were gusts of tent-billowing breeze, tugging the whole lot off the line and into the black currant bush, and in the end we had to desist.
He is going to build a roof over the garden. He actually means this, it looks as if it might really, really happen. He has got some scaffolding poles in one of his trailers in the field, and spent much of the day ambling about the garden, squinting at the walls and measuring things.
I cut the grapevine back.
This has become absolutely huge. It is a thicket.
It has got an awful lot of grapes on it. I cut everything back to just before the grapes, and it is still a horticultural monster.
We think that we will try and persuade it to grow over our new garden roof structure.
I am hoping very much that Mark manages to build it. There is no guarantee of this, he might just think that he will, bring lots of stuff here, make a mess in the garden and then get distracted.
Of course the problem is that he is already so very busy, but it would be brilliant to be able to use the garden a bit more. Usually it is too cold, or too wet, or just generally too weathery to do anything much other than dash through it, feeling guilty about weeding. This summer has been so lovely. I am hoping and hoping and hoping that it has been because of Global Warming, and that summers like this will be our punishment for our reckless extravagance for years and years to come.
After I had finished being helpful in the garden I did some more ironing. Sometimes my life is not very exciting.
I did a lot of ironing, but still haven’t finished.
The children were busy in the kitchen whilst I did it. They are practising doing things for Oliver’s scholarship exam. Today they were doing maths and the verbal reasoning puzzles.
They are both working very hard. The verbal reasoning ones are brilliantly good fun, and everybody has been helpfully joining in whenever we go past them. How Oliver will go on in the exam when he has not got a committee to help him I have got no idea.
I am on the taxi rank now. Mark goes back to work tomorrow.
I am resigning myself to a day spent cleaning.
The picture is my ironing pile.
