I am being obliged to write to you after work. This is because of the continued absence of my computer and the Apple Repair Department’s continued expensive intransigence.
You have got until Mark finishes in the shower. Already it is twenty to four, and we have got a very busy day ahead tomorrow.
Partly this is because the alternator has decided to pack up on Mark’s taxi. He has got to get a new one and fit it before tomorrow night. Also he has got to go and get a bit for Oliver’s car from Penrith, this is because it is an important braking bit which is not working. This is not cool when you are busily trying to pass a driving test.
Even though it is almost morning I can hear Lucy upstairs. She is booting the dogs out of her bed. This is because although they have eaten all of the walnuts they have now discovered the Christmas tree chocolates, which you might recall become lawful dog-property if they fall on to the floor. Roger found the first one, He is not eating it. It is too special and treasured for that. He has carefully kept it in its wrapper and he is looking after it. He has been keeping it safely tucked underneath his warm fur, and he is carrying it around with him in his mouth.
Rosie also found a Christmas tree chocolate, but she has already devoured hers, I think even including the wrapper, because I have not discovered any revolting sticky chocolate frog wrappers anywhere, probably it is in Lucy’s bed.
Anyway, Roger can hardly sleep because he is busily defending his chocolate. He knows that if he takes his eyes off it for the tiniest fraction of a micro-second Rosie will snaffle it like an Amazonian hunting spider in a David Attenborough film. All the same, it is so wonderful that he can’t resist putting it down and gazing at it lovingly every now and again. He has got to growl at Rosie first, to make sure she understands that a terrible fate will befall a chocolate-thief.
Rosie, regrettably, is perfectly willing to take the risk. I think there will be bloodshed before morning.
The Christmas chocolates are around because the children have decorated the Christmas tree. They did this tonight whilst we were at work. I was sad not to have done it myself, because it is always so splendid to get all of our favourite ornaments out and lovingly recall the stories that go with them, however, I suspect that the children find this bit excruciatingly boring, and were relieved to have me out from under their feet.
It was a relief that it was done. I still have so many things to finish before Christmas that I feel as though I am running a hundred-yard sprint whilst dressed for the sack-race. It is all very busy. I have not even made the mince pies yet, that will be tomorrow’s job.
Today I did not make anything Christmassy. I made lots of boring things that we have run out of, like mayonnaise and biscuits. Also we have three children at home and they are all eating like hungry young people. They would not be grateful to be presented with curry for breakfast in the middle of the night, which was what happened to Mark last week.
Once I had fed everybody and cooked things, and washed up, somehow it was time to get ready for work already. I do not know how that happened, it was as if the day had simply dissolved away, like last night’s snow on a rainy morning.
We still have heaps of snow dotted around here. They are taking a very long time to become puddles.
I can hear Mark finishing his shower. I think that even despite the painful brevity of this, it might be time for me to desist and get some sleep.
I will see you on Sunday.
