Oliver rang to tell me about the drum lessons.
The school drum kits are attached to microphones and speakers and in a soundproof building at the far end of the campus. They are so loud that you have to wear ear defenders for your lessons.
The teacher is an excitable Brazilian who does not speak much English but loves rhythm. Oliver thinks the lessons are thrilling.
He is just beginning to feel homesick. I am terribly sympathetic but can’t do very much, he will get over it but it is the most dreadful feeling whilst it lasts.
I couldn’t do anything even if I was desperate to help, because we are hundreds of miles to the south.
We have come to Northampton to help Lucy to move in.
We filled her car yesterday, and then filled the camper van this morning. She had to collect the keys to her new house, and so set off early. We were collecting some donations from my parents and were not in such a rush.
In fact we had quite a leisurely chug down the motorway. The brakes were working, which always makes for a relaxed frame of mind, and we had the story CD and a couple of bags of jelly babies.
We arrived at my parents’ house to discover that they had put all sorts of thoughtful things on one side for Lucy. There was a table lamp and a pretty flowery pot, a little table that my brother had engineered, and some sheets, and a pile of sandwiches.
The sandwiches were very welcome because we had not eaten breakfast, and were jolly good as well, fresh floury bread with ham and cheese and pickles. I was full after one but I ate another one anyway. This is why my trousers are getting a bit tight.
I had been far too anxious this morning for anything as mundane as eating. I had rushed about remembering last minute things like battery chargers and rice and shampoo.
In the end I had remembered almost everything, so it was worth it, and there was a huge empty space in the house which was once full of children’s things.
I would be fibbing if I did not tell you that it felt beautifully tidy.
It was just starting to go dark when we got to Northampton, and the moon was huge above the horizon.
It is so warm here. I mean really warm. No wonder southerners worry about global warming. Obviously we don’t really believe in it in the Lake District, because of a complete absence of evidence, but here it was so warm that it was a bit sticky.
Lucy’s house is tiny and perfect, except that we can’t find an electricity meter anywhere, and I am quite sure that there must be one.There is a living room which you could fit five times over into the entrance hall at Oliver’s friend’s castle, and a minute kitchen. Upstairs there are two bedrooms, although one of them is not actually big enough for a bed.
We lugged everything in, and the nice traffic warden told us where to park, which was helpful, because it is a busy city with a lot of rules about these things.
We thought that it was a rather splendid sort of place. We have heard a dozen different languages being called up and down the street, although no English, and when you step outside the front door, the air in the street is heavy and rich with the unmistakeable smell of cannabis.
The street is hushed, with almost no traffic. The dogs milled about in the road as we unloaded, and nothing passed them. There is a garage next to her house on one side which seems to be being used to store dead bodies for an undertaker, and a back yard shared with half a dozen other houses, where you might expect to find some dustbins, except there aren’t any, just a dead sofa and some bicycles.
She is both excited and scared.
This place is going to be just perfect.
I am falling asleep. It is two in the morning. I will tell you more tomorrow.
