We have had a Day Of Idleness.
We did not get up until one in the afternoon, which is so late that if we weren’t going to work there would hardly be any point in bothering.
We did not exactly rush about having achievements even then. In fact we took the dogs for a stroll through the little bit of woodland, avoiding the steep fellsides, and came back for an absolutely enormous breakfast, which Mark made whilst I had gone to Sainsbury’s.
We had cheese on toast with eggs and bacon piled on top.
There is no better feeling of well-being in the world than the one you get from cheese on toast with eggs and bacon, especially after a blustery walk.
We had partly been idle because last night was full of small excitements, and we felt justified in following it with some domestic tranquillity.
The first little excitement was that when we started to go to work yesterday evening, shortly after I had written to you, my taxi would not start.
I had not been anywhere in it for ages, and the battery was flat.
This was an absolute nuisance. It was so flat that it would not even start when we put the jump leads to Mark’s battery, and in the end we hitched it up and bump-started it.
The tiresome thing started before we had even got to the end of the alley.
The second excitement was when a group of gentlemen came up to my taxi and asked if I would take them up to Windermere. I declined, because there were six of them, and they thought that some of them might get in with me, and the rest with Mark.
Whilst they were trying to explain this to one another, in the way that groups of young men do after they have all had a very great deal to drink, some more young men came along and asked me to take them to Kendal.
I declined them as well, because I explained that I was waiting for the others. The others realised that somebody was trying to gazump their taxi, and came rushing back, bellowing their right of primogeniture.
I know they were first-come-first-served rather than first-born. You do not need to write to me about it, thank you.
Anyway, fisticuffs ensued. It was noisy and interesting, and in a very few minutes there was blood and traffic cones all over the road. Both lots ran away and nobody got in a taxi at all.
Mark went off somewhere else, and when my next customer came along my taxi would not start again.
I had to bump start it by rolling it backwards down the hill, which was exciting because of the numbers of drunk people and the lack of steering when the engine is not working.
The customer got cross and buzzed off somewhere else.
I thought that probably I had better not turn my engine off after that.
I had to be very careful indeed to remember this, because at half past one in the morning, a lady came to the taxi rank and asked Mark to take her to Liverpool, which he did. She had had a row with her husband. This is always why people want to go long distances in the middle of the night.
I stayed on the taxi rank until the last intoxicated souls had drifted away, and then went home to empty the dogs and fill the dishwasher. This unexpected peace and quiet was quite handy, and I telephoned Lucy, who is also doing night shifts, and caught up on some college work.
I was just going to bed when Mark came home, and filled me in with the interesting details of the lady’s row, and we collapsed. This was shortly after five.
When we got up we did nothing at all.
This is not quite true. Mark ordered a new battery from Autoparts and fitted it to my car, and I made our picnic. Then the day was made especially splendid by the arrival of a celebratory bottle of Moet, dispatched by my parents, as congratulations for getting a First in my Cambridge exams.
I got a First, did I mention it?
We can’t drink it tonight, because of work. We have put it in the fridge to chill and think it will be just about perfect on Tuesday next week when next we have a night off.
I am looking forward to it very much.
