I am so happy that I could chirp.
We will be going on holiday any minute now.
Actually it is more likely to be in about half an hour, when Mark has had his shower. As I write he is still tiddling about in the middle of a huge mess of sawdust and firewood in the yard. He would have finished much earlier but we were just getting ready to go when the builders across the road dragged out a whole new pile of firewood and so very patiently and sensibly, he cut it up instead of coming in.
I was very glad about this, because we will be warm for weeks and weeks now, but it is all getting a bit crowded out there. I would very much like to be able to get in and out through the back gate, most especially when we arrive at it with a camper van full of Oliver’s luggage when we come home. I know that this sounds like one of those ho-ho exaggeration comic effect things that people say, but in fact one of the Peppers came for coffee yesterday and had to go round and come in through the front door whilst Mark shouted explanations through the latch hole in the gate.
I have explained about this in a mindfully courteous sort of way, in order not to make him feel blamed and unappreciated, because I have read books about How To Train Your Husband. I barely raised my voice at all when I pointed out the gauntlet of sticking-out rusty nails and leaking buckets and spare windows that the intrepid passer-by must brave in order to reach the conservatory, and he has agreed to clear therm up.
We had a disagreement about the windows. I said that we very rarely need to lay our hands on a spare window in a hurry, and that they should go to the tip. Mark, however, was convinced that they might be useful, and then Number One Son-In-Law helped him bring them round, so we are stuck with them.
I do not mind, because he is tidying it all up, and the rest of my world is so wonderfully perfect that really it is all right.
This morning we brought in the Christmas tree and put it up. We have not decorated it, because we are going to do that with Oliver when he comes home in a few days, but it turned out that there was just enough room for it in the corner where we thought it would go, and it will be perfect.
We put the lights on it, which was the complicated sort of tangle that means you have got to stick your tongue out to work it out. They are some new lights, because last year’s came from Asda and had an irritating Safety Feature whereby they switched themselves off after a while. This drove me completely mental, because they were always switching themselves off when we were expecting visitors and things, and then somebody had to lie down and wriggle underneath the tree to the back to switch the plug off and on again. This fooled the hateful things into thinking that they had been off for ages, so they would consent to come back on, and I loathed them for their smug self-righteousness.
I ordered this year’s from China where they do not bother about such refinements, and I am enjoying their perpetual illumination with the greatest satisfaction. When it comes to setting the house on fire, the Christmas decorations come a long way down the list of our house’s hazards, most of which are related to the boiler. Indeed, when I looked at the diary entry for this time last year, during the course of November and December we flooded the house three times and set it on fire once, and so by previous standards we have become shining examples of prudence.
We packed everything, and tidied up, and then dashed to Kendal so that I could have a haircut. This was because I looked in the mirror this morning and a person with a startled hedgehog on their head looked back. Of course nobody will care what I look like when we are in Scotland, or indeed over the whole of Christmas, but it is probably wise to be on the safe side. You never know when haircuts might be made suddenly illegal again, and I would not wish secretly to be longing to do anything wickedly antisocial.
I have attached a picture of our living room. It is so lovely that I think I will keep it like that after Christmas, except for the Christmas tree, obviously. It makes my heart feel warm and contented just to look at it.
Mark has finished in the shower.
We are off.
