It would appear, to my happy satisfaction, that I still have a diary, and that all is thoroughly well except for the misfortunate loss of February.
I am untroubled by this, there are worse things to lose. I rushed to the computer with some trepidation when I woke up this morning, dreading the discovery that everything had disappeared again, but there had been no further misadventures and I could retreat back to bed and drink coffee with a light heart.
We sat in bed for ages, feeling pleased with our world in the sort of way that you do when you have got clean sheets on the bed and new underwear to look forward to. To add to our satisfaction in life it is coming round to bird-nesting time again, and we watched a pair of pigeons trying to poke sticks underneath number thirteen’s gutter whilst a crow perched on the edge of the roof and grumpily poked them back out again.
In the end we had got to get up, of course, when I made the astonishing discovery that it was Friday.
Somehow this week as well as losing February I have also lost Thursday. I was perfectly certain all day yesterday that it was Wednesday, and was rather surprised to notice that the library was open, because it closes on Wednesdays. Despite this I failed to consider the possibility of having got the days mixed up, and was looking forward to a fairly gentle, unhurried day today with no need to dash about for an early start at work at the end of it.
I felt unjustifiably bereft when I realised, although of course I had not lost a day as much as the idea of a day, but it still felt as though the delightfully roomy week had suddenly shrunk in the wash, leaving me with hardly any time to get everything done that I wanted to do.
My friend Kate came found to drink coffee and tell me all about her comings and goings whilst I made mayonnaise and finished making soup, and washed my woollen dress and a jacket for Mark, all of which was most satisfactory. is nothing nicer than having company to talk to whilst you are doing housework.
Mark has fairly minimal interest in the sort of things that ladies talk about, and went off to the farm to try and solve the far more interesting problem his taxi had recently developed, which was an inconveniently undesirable sequence of electrical events.
Whenever he turned the lights on the rear windscreen wiper swished about frantically and the boot popped open. This amused me no end, but the taxi licensing officer might have found it less entertaining, and so it had to be fixed as an emergency. Also it is going to be quite bad enough turning up at Gordonstoun in a collapsing elderly taxi next week without all the windscreen wipers and the horn and everything randomly turning themselves on and off whilst we chug smokily up the drive.
We did think about going up in the camper van, which could at least be described as having a sort of raffish style, but it would take so long to get all the way there at its top speed of fifty miles an hour as long as we are going downhill, and would use so much fuel, and it needs fixing anyway, that we have decided not to bother, and have booked ourselves into an hotel overnight.
In fact you will be amazed to hear that I was rather reluctant to do this, but of course we have already got a stay in Manchester booked for the week after, which has emptied all of our available loafing about budget, and this has rather pushed us into the red. This is entirely my fault for being a reckless spendthrift, if only I had not got so sick of being cautious and prudent in my impoverished youth, how much wealthier we would be.
Not that I care in the least, we will always earn more money, and it is almost Easter and whilst the rest of the world is rolling eggs down hills and playing games of chocolate hide-and-seek we will be busy creating our fortune or paying off Mark’s credit card depending on the way life has been going. Rather like Jon Snow, who is a chap from the DVD called Game Of Thrones that we enjoyed very much, and who is concerned about a doom-laden future, we know that we had jolly well better enjoy ourselves now, and get ourselves prepared: because summer is coming.
When Kate had gone I cut out and pinned my new apron, in the spirit of getting all of the nagging chores done before the summer. I feel dreadfully uncomfortable trying to do housework without a large apron, and mine has become very tired, so it can be demoted to shoe cleaning and dog-bathing, and I have bought some heavy duty twill to make a couple more.
The first of these is pictured at the top pinned to the dressmaker’s dummy, I will probably get it finished tomorrow, which will be a relief.
Tomorrow will be Saturday, it turns out.
They come round so terribly quickly…
