We were woken up this morning by Lucy bounding cheerfully on to our bed to tell us that the day had started and that it was time we joined in, how marvellous it is to have a daughter at home with us.
Once we had surfaced and Lucy had made plain her teenage revulsion concerning old people without their clothes on, we had coffee and discovered to our collective horror that Mark’s tiresome dog has come in to season.
We had half expected this to happen sooner or later, and half thought that she might have been spayed, which would have been sad, because she would like having puppies. We know this because she steals Lucy’s fluffy slippers sometimes, and compulsively washes anybody who will sit still for long enough, especially if they are a bit hairy, Mark quite often finds that his neck and ears have been thoroughly cleaned up before he has even opened his eyes in the morning.
However you might just remember, because I think I mentioned it in passing, that we are going on holiday in a few days and now we are going to have to leave Lucy’s grandparents with a very tiresome leaky smelly creature and a fatal attraction for every other dog for thirty miles, and they might not be at all pleased about this.
If I were them at this point I would just refuse. Mark said that we could just send them along with an old quilt and her revolting dog cushion and suggest that the two dogs just live in the garage together, at least they will keep each other occupied. Lucy said that the whole thing was disgusting and that she didn’t want to think about it at all.
I think it is rather nice, and I hope that they do fall in love with each other, although I do wish they had left it for another fortnight. When we had our last dog the cat had kittens, and the dog loved them very much, washing them and playing with them and looking after them as much as their mother did, he was heartbroken when we gave them away to people, which made us feel dreadful. It is not at all true that animals don’t feel things. He never wanted anything to do with kittens after that, because the sadness had just been too much.
After that we took them out and had breakfast and listened happily to Lucy telling us things about school whist we got ready for work. She is funny and cynical and clever and wants to go into marketing when she grows up, and made us laugh a lot with stories of living with teenage girls. One of her friends asked Lucy for advice about her boyfriend, and Lucy said: “I think what you ought to do is concentrate properly on your GCSEs and stop filling your head with ridiculous romantic drivel.” One of the older girls whom Lucy knows vaguely is rumoured to have Had Sex in the summer holidays. This is an absolute secret. She only told her best friend about it, and that was in strictest confidence. I am very glad I am not fourteen any more. Walled up together in a nunnery is the very best place to keep several hundred teenage girls.
There wasn’t much day after that really, because we had to leave Lucy to hang the washing on the line and go to work, which is where we have been ever since. The Lake District is achingly beautiful at the moment, grey and shiveringly still and silent, and the trees coloured with a glorious pallet of gold and scarlet and orange. I keep stopping to look at things, and to breathe in the brown, crumbly leaf-smell, which is not helping me to earn money but nevertheless is important to do, you can’t see things properly from a noisy car.
I have got to do some more packing tomorrow, and also talk to Lucy’s grandparents about the stupid dogs. I wanted Mark to do it because he is better at talking to people than I am, but he has got to carry on building the camper van otherwise we will be walking to France.
Not long now…
