It is almost the middle of the night and I am not at home.
I am not even on the taxi rank.
In fact I am absolutely miles away from the Lake District, I am sitting in the very calm and beautiful spare room at Nan and Grandad’s house.
I am also a bit intoxicated.
Actually I am quite a lot intoxicated because I was overcome with the holiday feeling, and when we arrived at about five o’ clock and Nan offered us a cup of tea I said that I would prefer wine and we have been drinking wine ever since.
This may not have been the wisest thing to do, but I can tell you that it has been absolutely lovely, and tomorrow’s inevitable headache will have been worth every minute.
We are here because of course as you know Lucy finishes school tomorrow. Nan and Grandad live fairly close to school and we have got a dresser to collect.
We harnessed the newly-roadworthy trailer this morning and set off, leaving the poor dogs to Number Two Daughter, we will just have to clear up when we get home.
We did some very pleasing shopping on the way, including a trip to Penhaligon’s in York, where we spent far more than we could afford on lovely candles and soap.
To my horror the kind lady behind the counter told us the appalling news that they are no longer making the lovely Bluebell soaps that I like, so I am facing a sad future in which I will only be able to buy Chanel. Indeed, we bought the very last Bluebell candle whilst we were there.
They have got some Lily of the Valley soap that I quite like, so I will give that a go and maybe all will not be lost.
After that shocking discovery we headed over to Nan and Grandad’s house, where we did not load the dresser into the trailer. We drank some wine, and then we drank some more.
Nan had cooked a jolly splendid cottage pie, with beautiful circles of sliced potato on the top, brown and just the tiniest bit crisp, which put me in the dilemma of trying to eat as much as I possibly could whilst talking enthusiastically and without any table manners at the same time.
Afterwards there was gooseberry crumble which was served swimming in a lake of cream, and I ate so much that I wished I had put on the bigger trousers. Then we drank a bit more, and told stories and laughed for ages, and then we all suddenly went quiet and Mark and I realised that we were so tired we were nodding off in the sofa.
We had showers and retired to their spare room, which is gorgeous, with pine furniture and pretty china and which makes me guiltily aware that I don’t dust often enough at home.
It is a very happy moment. We are warm, and clean, and full of lovely dinner and wine. We are collecting Lucy tomorrow, and we have had the nicest evening talking our heads off and listening to funny stories by the fireside.
I have managed to get through the entire evening without saying anything stupidly embarrassing, at least nothing that I can remember at the moment, which is always a bit of a surprise bonus after the third glass.
Mark is asleep next to me as I am writing this, snoring just a little bit, and I can hear Nan and Grandad pottering about making their way to bed.
I know there are troubles in the world, but tonight none of them are mine.
We can always load the dresser into the trailer in the morning.
