We are having some more weather. It is called Storm Badly Spelled Spanish George. You are supposed to pronounce it Hoo Hah, or something similar, and it is not at all nice. Once we are properly out of Europe the Spanish can keep their storms. They can spell them any way they like then.
I am sitting on the taxi rank with the rain bashing against the windscreen. There are some people trying to shelter in a doorway on the other side of the road who might want a taxi but who do not want to splash across through the deluge to find out whether or not they might be allowed to get in mine. I can see them from my warm dry taxi. I will just have another cup of tea whilst they think about it.
We have not had a terribly busy day. There is a long and lovely comment at the bottom of the last entry, written by my father, which tells the world how very busy we are, but we have not been busy today. Today we slept late. Worse, we did not even do very much when we got up.
If you have not seen the comment in question, please don’t hesitate to go back and have a look. It is the sort of thing that people usually save for your funeral, and since I am not dead, my ego has swelled massively, and I am feeling decidedly pleased with ourselves.
Of course since it is Saturday it was always going to be a day without very many activities in it, by the time we had actually got out of bed and emptied the dogs it was almost time to go to work. Mark faffed about for a while in the conservatory, and I ironed our smart clothes, recently laundered from going out to eat dinner last week. We did not really need to sit down and have an afternoon cup of tea, because we had only just had our coffee, but we did anyway, because it is weekend, and you are allowed to be a bit idle when it is the weekend.
I have been reading my new Kindle. I have downloaded a series of fourteen books which cost me seventy five pence. It is the Anne Of Green Gables books, most of which I read as a child but have now forgotten, and which I am enjoying very much. They are set in Canada, and it sounds wonderful. It will be nice to go and live there when I am old and Number Two Daughter draws the short straw and gets stuck with looking after me. They are brilliant books, but would not get published now. The opening sentence of the first book goes on for more than half a page and does not have a single murder in it anywhere.
I am utterly enchanted with the idea of the new Kindle. It is like having a magical bag like the one that belonged to Mary Poppins. I have got a little tiny flat thing that goes in my pocket, and I can keep a thousand books in it and take them absolutely everywhere.
I have spent quite a bit of my life lugging piles of books around and I think that this is ace.
It has also got a little light in it so that I can read them. Mary Poppins had a standard lamp in her carpet bag, but this is not quite the same thing.
I think that it is a small miracle. I am very glad that I am alive now and not a hundred years ago.
Have a picture of Mark, faffing.
