We have sunshine.
With the sunshine hundreds of people have also arrived, all of whom seem to believe that nice and slowly is the perfect way to drive around such a beautiful place.
We have got so much daylight now that we are obliged to go to work in it. This is going to get worse from tomorrow, and is monumentally irritating. It always seems such a terrific waste of daylight, to squander it sitting on a taxi rank. Also people can see what I am doing, which always feels far too personal. I am only ever reading or writing to you, but that isn’t the point, what if I wanted to pick my nose?
We had a splendid time in the daylight today.
Really we should have gone back to bed, because of tonight being a very late finish, but the weather was so magnificent that of course we didn’t. Mark and his friend Twiglet buzzed off to the farm to collect a trailer load of poo for the garden, and I ambled about happily doing house things and occasionally just standing in the garden for a while, absorbing Vitamin D and feeling joyful.
I washed our dressing gowns and pegged them out on the line. They take ages to dry, but they smell wonderfully of garden when they are done. I am appreciating this now as it might not be quite so wonderful once Mark has applied the poo next week. Whilst they were drying I made a huge pot of lovely fragrant tea, and took it upstairs to plough on with my endless story-editing process. I flung all the windows wide open and the sun beamed on to my desk, and I sat peacefully in its wonderful glow and wrote about hideous massacres and murder.
I made an ace sunshine-inspired picnic, with cheese sticks and tomato hummus, fresh pumpkin seed rolls with chicken and home made mayonnaise, olives and peppers in sesame oil, and almond and ginger shortbread.
We had just regretfully dragged ourselves off to the taxi rank when Mark’s clutch, which has been awful for weeks, decided that it would be a good idea to stop working altogether. This turned into a little crisis. Mark had to stall it to change gear, and somehow coaxed it off to the farm, where somehow, miraculously, he repaired it.
This meant that he lost the first couple of hours work, but it didn’t matter nearly as much as the massive relief of having a functioning clutch, and also not having to fork out half a million quid to buy a new one. I was very glad that it is working again, it is tiresome to have to keep remembering not to use it.
He rejoined me on the taxi rank just in time to catch a crowd of intoxicated gentlemen who were occupied in shouting rude words at taxi drivers. We all refused to take them anywhere, at which point somebody else wanted a taxi, so I buzzed off. When I got back Mark was busy having an altercation with yet another group of people, who rushed over to me and wanted to get in my taxi because it turned out that some shouting men had warned them in advance that Mark was drunk.
I advised them what I thought they should do in my very best Anglo-Saxon, and they considered this and decided that they would walk. Mark had been obliged to stand up to explain to them that they should go away, which is usually a decider in these matters, because of Mark’s considerable height, currently enhanced by his menacingly shaven head. The last bit only helps if he removes his flat cap.
We laughed and had a cup of tea, and the evening goes on. It is wonderful to have sunshine. It means that we have customers.
This is jolly handy, because it is mortgage time again.
How quickly it comes round.
