This morning started off on a very anxious note.
We were sitting in bed having our coffee when we realised that the chap in the house opposite had got a ladder out and was cleaning his upstairs windows.
Unknown to him a pair of crows have built their nest underneath his eaves behind the soil pipe. It has taken them ages, they have been flapping clumsily in and out with all shapes and sizes of sticks, some of which turned out not to be suitable and were dumped in the garden below. They have been collecting up all the dry grass from underneath Oliver’s trampoline to make it nice and warm and soft, and the whole lot is nicely tucked away out of sight, but of course nobody likes crows dropping sticks all over the place and making a racket and pooing in their loft, so we were quite worried that he would notice it and pull it out.
The poor crow was worried too, and hopped up and down along the gutter in an agony of anxiety whilst our neighbour struggled to balance and clumsily swiped smears on and off the window, and there were a couple of awful moments when he glanced upwards, and we all held our breath, sure that he must have noticed a few stray twigs, and I said desperately to Mark that he would have to go and stop him.
We were quiet for a moment whilst we contemplated that picture, of Mark rushing into the street in his dressing gown and haranguing a neighbour about perfectly reasonable pest control, and knew sadly in our hearts that it just wasn’t going to happen: but fortunately it didn’t need to, because eventually he stumped unsteadily down the ladder and started clattering about putting his bucket away, and we all heaved a sigh of relief, probably none of us as much as Mummy Crow.
We felt cheerful and relieved with the world after that, and got up to take the dog to be emptied, and I went to the library and Mark brought logs in and we discovered that there were so many people newly arrived for the bank holiday that everywhere had run out of bread.
Fortunately I had got some saved up for emergencies in the freezer, and after that it was time to make a flask of tea and take it to work, because of course lots of people being here means that it is a good time to earn some money.
It was raining hard, and everywhere was incredibly busy, and even though I was earning money, I stopped being cheerful, and instead had a very difficult time not to be horribly grumpy.
There were lots of people who just weren’t trying hard enough not to be run over by a taxi, and lots of other people who thought that it would be a good idea to be courteous to the people of Windermere by going everywhere at the very safe speed of eight miles an hour, which also allowed them plenty of time to gaze at the stunning scenery, and as well as those there were lots of old people who weren’t terribly confident about driving, and a bit frightened by all the traffic, and also a bit lost.
The rain meant that it was uncomfortable to get out of the taxi and stretch my legs, and after a few hours I was tired and stiff, and starting to want to be really horrible, the sort of rude which makes people feel sad and upset and angry, but is really just the outpouring of your own ghastly bad temper.
I even had a hard time trying to be kindly to the blind lady who wanted to be taken to the Co-op and helped to find the sort of biscuits that she liked. We had to park on double yellow lines and then queue for ages, and it made me secretly very impatient: and then I felt awful, because I knew that I was turning into a wicked person.
At about midnight it stopped raining quite so hard, and I managed to get out and talk to the other drivers, and we realised that we were all tired and grumpy and fed up with the world being on its holidays and lost in the Lake District, which made me feel a bit better, and I remembered that I like people being on holiday and having a happy time really.
By the time I had picked up a young man from the nightclub who had to go home and change in a hurry because his trousers had torn right down the front so that he was displaying some blue and white patterned underwear to every other youth in the area, including the girl he had quite liked, I felt quite cheered and ready to laugh again.
Ready to do it all again tomorrow.
