I am very pleased to tell you that Lucy has been offered the job.
Should she decide to accept it, and on condition she can pass the medical, she will be joining Oldham CID in December.
Goodness, she will be able to look up all of her own family history, how exciting that will be. Fortunately for all of the rest of the family, policemen are not supposed to investigate their own family just out of idle curiosity. Lucy is inclined to virtue, so I imagine we are all safe.
That is just as well.
As it is, we are all having a Day Off. This has been very happy indeed, because none of us has gone to work at all, not like the usual sort of day off where you only go to work at the end of it. It has been especially nice because we have not even needed to do anything else. No frantic dashes across the Scottish Highlands to collect Oliver, no job interviews to be anxiously supervised. It has simply been a Day.
We have done all sorts of things. This morning we hung the washing out in the yard and this afternoon I have got dinner ready. What an exciting life we do lead.
I confided in Mark over morning coffee that I was anxious about my misfortunate toe. This is still sore, can’t be bent even if I try and squish it into place with my fingers, and given that it is stuck on the end of an equally misfortunate foot, one which is still fat and immobile after the previous misadventure, has been giving me some misgivings. I told Mark this morning that I was worried that the whole lot might never heal properly, and I would be stuck with a limp for ever.
Mark was very sympathetic. He said that he would still love me if that happened, and he would get me an eyepatch and a parrot to go with it. Then he fell about laughing.
I was consoled. I have always wanted a parrot, although I am not sure that it would be a good idea. One of the things I like best about the dogs is that they can’t talk. They would be very boring indeed if they could. Their understanding of English is pretty good, though. For several months now we have been avoiding the sudden bouncing excitement caused by discussion of Shall We Go For A Walk? by mysteriously referring to the activity as Shall We Do A Thing? This has been puzzling, and a little alarming for visitors, but we had to do it after Roger Poopy learned to spell, and Double Yew Ay Ell Kay was no longer a code.
They have now worked out the significance of Doing A Thing, we are going to have to think of something else.
We have picked the blackcurrants. These had just about reached their finest hour, being fat and squashy, and deeply purple in hue, attracting every bird for miles. There are young crows in the garden at the moment, we have been feeding them occasionally, because I like crows, although I know they are supposed to be vermin. One of them clanged headfirst into the conservatory door the other day, because he failed to notice we had closed it, and he was hoping for crusts on the floor. This suggests that they are not quite as clever as we imagine, certainly that one wasn’t. I opened the door afterwards, guiltily, but he would not come it, just sat and glared at me, haughtily, from the top of the shed.
We picked seven pounds of blackcurrants, and have put them to strain. I will make blackcurrant jelly with some, and puree the rest. This could be blackcurrant jam or possibly ice cream or even something alcoholic. We could have Porn Star Martini made with blackcurrants instead of whatever else you are supposed to put in it. I don’t think that porn stars are generally purple, except in the very lowest-budget corner of the market, perhaps, but I am quite sure that blackcurrants mixed with vodka and Prosecco would be just as nice, especially if we mixed the blackcurrants and vodka now and then saved it for Christmas.
Suddenly I am looking forward to tomorrow.
It could be Porn Walk-On-Bit-Part Martini, perhaps.
We will serve it in a teacup with a slice of apple.
