Mark has come home.
He was really remarkably early, considering that he had to get off one boat and on to another in order to get on a helicopter in order to get to Aberdeen, and from there he had to drive all the way through Scotland and back home again. Despite all of this adventuring, he still managed to be home by half past three this afternoon.
This was so early that I was not really expecting him, and was upstairs, being busy pinning the lining into one of the new camper van curtains when I heard him shouting from the kitchen.
It was lovely to have him home. Roger Poopy was overcome by passionate joy, and hurled himself at Mark, making little whimpering noises and smiling so much that he kept sneezing until he was obliged to desist, and Mark wiped away the sprays of dog snot with resignation. We all congregated in the living room with a cup of tea, and Roger Poopy insisted on planting himself firmly on Mark’s knee, pressing his head tightly against his chest and occasionally sighing his joy into Mark’s cup of tea.
He jumped off in the end, excited because I had said Right, Then. This is occasionally a preliminary to saying Shall We Go For A Walk? and always makes the dogs pay instant, pricked-ear attention. I had not intended to go for a walk, but they were all so happy at the idea that we all went in the end, and occupied twenty minutes throwing the ball in the Library Gardens, whilst they all charged about and barked ecstatically.
We considered having a night off, but we are still trying to raise enough cash to go to Glyndebourne, and so we have both come to work instead.
You will not be surprised to learn that we are sitting on the taxi rank.
It is fairly quiet, so we are not wearing ourselves out.
Mark is not exactly pleased to be home. He had been hoping that the job would last for another week. It has not lasted, but he is going to be paid until Friday anyway, so I don’t think it matters in the least. In any case it has given us an unexpected bonus week in which we will be able to get on and build some more bits of the camper van.
I am very pleased about this, I can’t think of anything nicer than spending the rest of the week welding window frames into place above my head. I have just pinned the last of the bedroom curtains and am beginning to think about manufacturing some blinds to complement them.
Apart from Mark’s appearance it has not been a terribly exciting day. I got wet on my fell walk this morning for the second time this week, but everywhere is starting to smell glorious, and there is a trickle of water in the becks again, so it did not matter.
The first few blackberries are staring to come out. There seems to be a very lot of them this year, the bushes are already beginning to droop under their weight, they must have been enjoying the warm weather.
It is not warm now. It is decidedly chilly. I have had to resort to a thick padded shirt to wear for work. I hope it is not like this in the south, otherwise all of my flapping around worrying about holiday clothes will have been wasted, and I will be shivering at Glyndebourne and regretting not having installed my thermal underwear underneath my summer ball gown.
Most certainly I am not in need of sandals at the moment.
I am contemplating popping home for my sheepskin boots.
