I am reading an ace book by somebody called Quentin Letts.
It is the brilliant sort of book that says everything that I think already, but explains it beautifully and with lots of informative detail.
I cannot name it here, because it has a rude word in the title, implying that the British elites are the offspring of unmarried parents. Suffice to say that I practically sighed with happiness when it came to the chapter about modern art being publicly funded.
I am hoping for a quiet night on the taxi rank in order that I can immerse myself contentedly in his eloquence.
I have to say, at the moment it is not looking as if I am likely to be disappointed. It is raining hard, and the weekend before the Bank Holiday, and so nobody has taken the opportunity to rush to the Lake District for a restorative paddle in the park.
We have been trying to make progress with our external demolition activities, but been hampered by the squelching mud which is the consequence of the unlovely weather. I am finding it hard to be polite to taxi customers who say, brightly: “Well, this is a surprise, isn’t it, all this rain?” as if they had expected to find themselves in the Algarve when they got off the train from Wigan.
If you come to the Lake District and are surprised to find that it is raining then you should have done more meteorological research before you clicked ‘Go’ on Booking.com.
I am not feeling especially cheerful about it. One couple assured me this evening that they know about Lake District weather, because they come here all the time, and quite often it is scorching.
I decided that they were too foolish to merit a reply, and maintained a dignified silence. This is always a good tactic when you want people to notice that they have just said something exceptionally brainless. Arguing just makes them feel that their opinions might hold some weight.
It is raining an awfully lot today. This is entirely predictable, unless you are a taxi customer, but I don’t have to like it.
Actually, it is probably rather good for the newly-lawned front garden. This afternoon Mark finished laying the turf on it. He has dug this out of the back garden, where we no longer need to trouble ourselves with a lawn any more, and then squished it all stickily into place in front of the house, with a plank and a large hammer.
I bought some grass seeds from the ironmonger’s to fill in the muddy gaps. The lady in the ironmonger’s was very complimentary about the improved front garden, and interested to hear about the conservatory. She said that she would go home by the back way in order to have a look at developments. There is not a very great deal happening in Windermere, and people have to find their entertainment anywhere they can.
At the moment there is not much to see. There is a trench, and a muddy patch where the lawn used to be. We were going to start taking the path up, but we think perhaps better not, already it is a bit like being a soldier on duckboards in the Somme, better not to slip with a heavy bag of shopping.
It is not a good idea to mix cement in this weather. When we were eventually rained off this afternoon we retired to the kitchen table with a cup of tea to discuss plans. It is not a very big space, but all the same it needs a lot of thinking about.
I have told Mark that the woodsheds must go, or at any rate be substantially redesigned in order to appear pleasing to the eye. The current set up is constructed of corrugated iron and old pallets, built at a time when we were desperate for dry wood storage but short of cash. Mark promised to paint it and tidy it up to make it look better, but became distracted, and the promised shades of pink and cream have never materialised.
I explained that I do not wish to see anything from the pristine new conservatory that would look out of place in the Disneyland Hotel. I regret to say that the woodsheds definitely qualify. They would look out of place in practically anywhere that was not a Calcutta slum or possibly the business premises of the Steptoe partnership.
Hence we have come come up with a more acceptable design, to be installed at the same time as the conservatory, in order to limit mess and to make certain that they actually happen.
We can’t do much about any of it whilst it is raining like this. Soil and cement alike are becoming fluid and dribbling away through our very fingers.
Mark says that it will just have to wait, and in any case he has got to fix the water pump on the camper van this week, before I take it to Scotland. I only went to Heysham in it the other day and I had to put twelve litres of water in it. Also he has got rural broadband to install, a taxi to drive, and my taxi is due for an MOT this week. Several bits of it do not work, so he is going to be busy.
I am trying very hard to be patient. It is not easy when a project is as exciting as this one.
It will happen soon.
I am going to read my book now.
