Today it rained.
It rained and rained, the sort of rain that hammers on the conservatory roof too loudly for anybody to he heard talking, so we went back to bed.
This was wonderful, and for the second time today we were reluctant to get up. I think perhaps some more sleep might be a sensible plan for next week’s days off.
Last night was busy, and I am very happy to be able to tell you that we have now saved up almost sufficient cash to pay the Autoparts bill. This is a weight off my mind. This month’s invoice has got an injector on it, and for those who don’t know, they are small but disproportionately hugely costly, like babies.
It has been a day of happy things, because I am pleased to be able to tell you that Number One Daughter won the Women’s French Throwdown Crossfit competition. She could win this because at the moment they do not yet permit men to enter the women’s categories of cross fit, even if they have ticked Girl in the box which asks what they would like to be when they grow up. I am relieved about this and glad that she is doing cross fit and not something upsetting like swimming.
She is relieved and pleased, and quite rightly so. I am pleased as well, it is quite nice to feel fit and healthy by association. I am every bit as idle as usual but have made a contribution to the world’s fittest. This is a reassuring thought.
In fact I am not at all fit really, because I have still not started doing anything since I fell off my foot. This was six weeks ago, and although it is now recognisably a foot again, it is still a slightly peculiar shape, a bit like a picture of a foot drawn by an uninterested eight year old. Number One Daughter said I had got to practise standing on it, on that foot alone but with my eyes shut. This is supposed to help me to regrow my balance but it has not been very successful so far. Also it is not the sort of thing you can do when there is anybody looking. If you were going to do a birthday card illustration with the title Mad Old Lady it might conceivably look a bit like me standing on one leg.
We are planning to have another couple of days off next week, so perhaps we will do some walking then. It is our last chance before Oliver comes home. Of course he would be very welcome to come with us, but in reality it is unlikely that he will wish to spend his school holidays having adventurous nights in the camper van, he is not three any more and in any case will be at work earning money to pay for his holiday in Seoul.
When Oliver and Lucy were small this sort of thing was easy, and when we got fed up of driving taxis we used to load them into the camper van and chug away to Barrow to spend the night on the beach. They would wear themselves out rushing up and down the sand, after which we would eat fish and chips before bed, and watch a DVD of Thowra the Silver Brumby, who, for the uninformed, is a wild Australian bush pony. The children usually spent the next day galloping up and down the beach being bush ponies. I might have told you before, Lucy’s pony-name was Hyacinth, and she kindly allowed Oliver to be Lowercinth.
We never have any bush ponies with us these days, which is a little sad. Even when they are home they are disinclined to squeeze into the camper van and gallop about on the beach, so we will go by ourselves.
It will be lovely anyway.
