The problem with getting up at half past six in the morning is that there is an awful lot of day to go at afterwards.
I did the radio interview in my dressing gown, because of course it doesn’t matter on the radio. I expect most people who talk to John Humphrys are dressed like that, next time I am listening I shall remember to picture them that way: David Cameron in an old dressing gown and odd slippers because he only got up five minutes before the phone rang and wasn’t properly organised and hadn’t remembered to put his coffee where he could reach it.
I crawled back into bed afterwards, wrung out from the effort of expounding my opinions to an uninterested world, and Mark made sympathetic noises for a while until I felt better. Obviously we weren’t going to be able to go back to sleep after strong coffee as well as all the traumas of addressing the listening public, so we got up and took the dogs out.
I spent the rest of the day glancing at the clock and being amazed at how early it still was, the day seemed to go on for ever.
We occupied the enormous quantity of available day preparing for the Christmas Outing, which starts on Sunday: we are, of course, going off to Manchester for the pantomime. This involves a huge amount of organising, we are staying in the gorgeous Midland Hotel for two nights, which is just across the road from the Christmas markets, and in the camper van for one night, and need to make ourselves look respectable. This is an excitement in itself, choosing necklaces and cuff links and ties and handkerchiefs and hats and perfume feels special and thrilling and Christmassy.
I went up to the loft where we store our not-often-worn lovely clothes, and obliged the children to try theirs on, where we discovered that Oliver’s entire dress suit is too small, and that what he wanted to wear was his school uniform anyway, which he said were the most comfortable clothes he has got. We compromised with grey flannels and some check shirts and his tweed jacket, and he is just going to have to put up with spending some of his Manchester time shopping for new shirts and a suit instead of charging about the hotel with the other boys and their Nerf guns.
During this process I discovered an enormous bag of his washing, which he had brought home from school and neglected to mention, quite a bit of which seemed to belong to somebody called Piers, who I imagine sleeps in the next bed. There were only three pairs of socks, which was irritating, given that he started the term with fourteen, perhaps Piers’ mother is washing them for me. Also there were his outdoor school shoes, which were muddy beyond belief and which I took downstairs and left on the doormat whilst I considered what to do with them. So far they are still there.
Lucy organised some high heels and a little black number for herself that made her look quite stunningly pretty and that I know will make Mark grumble a lot and make suggestions that she puts a vest on underneath.
I unearthed my old favourite soft grey wool dresses and boots, and the pearls that Mark gave me for my birthday once. I packed linen and cavalry twill shirts for Mark, and corduroy trousers, and his beautiful dark overcoat.
Mark was not very interested in flapping over children’s outfits, and went off up to the farm to put a new wheel bearing on his car and get the camper van cleaned out and ready.
We have discovered that our mice are only visitors and creep into the camper van when we are not there and creep out again, when we are not parked at the farm we do not catch any in our dreadful mouse traps. This is brilliant news, and means that we do not have to keep killing them any more, because Mark has found the hole where he thinks they are getting in and has filled it in. They will just have to find somewhere else to have nights out.
Just another couple of days and it will be our turn to have nights out.
I can’t wait.
