Dear World,
I have spent the whole of today writing again, and I have almost finished. I think I have probably got another two chapters to go, and then I am done.
It is jolly hard work. Not hard work in the sense that hauling logs or plastering walls is hard work. It is hard work in the sense that I have been thinking so hard I have practically had my tongue sticking out all day. I have not had to think this much since I was trying to learn my eight times table, which, incidentally, I never did manage properly, and still have to subtract eight from eighty to get the harder ones.
Today has not been battles and massacre, because I have finished that bit. Today has been public execution and murder, by way of a little light relief. It is going to be an ace children’s book, even though there is not a single zombie involved.
We have taken a second night off, because of my car still not being fixed, and because we all know perfectly well that everybody has gone home and hidden in the cellar with their magical red shoes on in case of the forecast storm, which has disappointingly missed us completely. We have had a bit of drizzle and a slight draught under the front door. I am sorry about this, because I like adventures, especially the sort that just involve looking out of the window marvelling at other people’s misfortunes.
Anyway, nobody is here, and the people who are here are hiding under the bed from the storm, and I wanted to finish my book, so we have not gone to work again.
It was an indescribable joy to get up this morning after a night off last night and know that another one waited for us tonight. The joy was only slightly marred by an entirely self-inflicted headache brought about by last night’s intoxication. You will not be in the least astonished to learn that I am in the middle of preparing another, similar one for tomorrow morning.
Mark is downstairs creating solar panels again. He is scowling tonight because halfway through dinner he realised that he has rebuilt all of the front of the van to fit the new engine, and forgotten to leave a space for the sidelights and indicators. I think he is jolly clever and will probably manage to think of something, but he is cross with himself and is pondering the difficulty over the second glass of red wine. It is lovely to have a night off.
Tomorrow is Friday so there is no option other than to go to work, because of not having any money at all. Tonight is our last night together as Lucy is off to London tomorrow for her merchant banking course and to get under Number One Daughter’s feet for a couple of days, after which she goes straight to school. She is looking forward to it, except for the train, which is keeping her awake with anxiety. Public transport has not formed much of her general life experience up until now, and the thought of the potential for disaster is troubling her greatly. Mark is going to have to fix my car in the morning in case I have to go and rescue her from Aberdeen or somewhere.
I am going to reduce my hangover by finishing this here and going to bed.
I still haven’t taken any pictures. Have one of Mark.
