We went for a swim this evening, and I was so hungry when we got out that I ate all of my picnic straight away, in one go.
I knew that this was an indigestion-encouraging gluttonous thing to do, and also that I have got to get into my smart clothes for Christmas, but I did it anyway.
Mark came and had a cup of tea with me at about eleven and said that he had done the same.
We are both going to be completely spherical by Christmas at this rate.
The thing about housework is that unlike sawing up logs, which is what Mark is doing at the moment, housework does not make you any fitter. Lugging the hoover up to the top floor and then needing a little sit down is not exactly what the Army would consider to be a beasting.
In fact I have not achieved a great deal of anything much today anyway, largely because it was lunchtime before we woke up.
We had our coffee and contemplated the week ahead.
We have got some busy times in our immediate future, mostly consisting of carol services. There are three of these to attend, one at each school and one at the Cathedral in Ripon. Oliver is singing at this last one.
The problem with this sort of thing is that schools never schedule events taking into account that some parents might be up all night. It is all very well having a carol service at eleven in the morning in York if you are a window cleaner or a dermatologist and live in York. If you are a taxi driver from the other side of the country who doesn’t go to bed until five, getting to school on time and not in your pyjamas is more problematic, although so far mostly we have managed it.
We considered this for a while, and in the end made the extravagant decision that we would stay in hotels for all of them except Oliver’s school one, which is on a Wednesday morning and we can go home and back to bed afterwards.
In the normal way of things we have always managed this sort of activity because of the wonderful camper van, chugging across the country and sleeping in turns, collapsing into bed once safely in the school car park. Unfortunately we still can’t use the poor camper van. It is still in bits in Mark’s shed.
This is sad but bearable, because it is getting better all the time, and we thought that rather than rush it and cut corners we would put up with it being off the road and do it properly. When it is finished it is going to be fantastic, hardly recognisable, but there is still some time to go before that joyous moment.
We thought about this for a while, and in the end decided that neither of us at all wanted the crushing awfulness of gritty-eyed sleepless driving between the Lake District and the Festival of Nine Lessons, the first of which should be to organise your life better.
When I got up I borrowed Mark’s credit card and booked us into some hotels.
This should have made me feel guilty and worried about money and spendthrift, but it didn’t. Rather to my surprise I just felt a lovely warm wash of relief. We are going to have a lovely time at the carol services now, instead of being sleepy and cross with each other. We will arrive looking bright and rosy and full of egg and bacon breakfast, instead of being a sort of grey colour with yellowish bloodshot eyes and full of extra strong coffee and codeine, which is what happened last time we tried to do it all without sleep.
In fact it has made me feel very happy indeed, and instead of an uncomfortable feeling of anxiety when I think about the end of term, suddenly I feel excited and cheerful. It is going to be brilliant. I love singing Christmas carols. It is going to be ace to see the children again, and we are going to catch up with my parents and with Nan and Grandad as a bonus.
We set off for the first adventure on Friday. We are going to stay in York and then go to Lucy’s carol service and have lunch at a Thai restaurant with Nan and Grandad.
I really can’t think of anything nicer.
Hurrah for self-indulgence.
The picture on the top is to see if anybody can spot who is the guilty poopy.
