Our lodger has gone off on holiday and the house is astoundingly quiet.
It was long after midnight when we got in from work last night, but she was still awake. She had spent her evening agonising over the packing required when you are going to attend events from several different sartorial categories, and finally finished up with the sort of luggage that would benefit from its owner travelling in a small truck.
I am in such a glass house on this issue that I cannot pitch as much as a pebble. I have got a camper van the size of a small lorry for my own travelling necessities.
We thought that we would have a farewell drink. In my case this was purely for medicinal purposes because I have misfortunately got the sort of sore throat that makes speaking difficult and shouting impossible. When Roger Poopy ate Mark’s flip-flops the other day he was obliged to shout at him himself.
I thought that a small tot of spiced rum might help, and it turned out that I was right. It helped so much that I had another one, and then the next thing we knew it was half past two and we were all laughing a great deal and not in bed.
We made it out of bed just in time to wave her off this morning, and then silence descended on the house. She doesn’t take up very much space, and in any case she is so determined not to be a nuisance that she tiptoes around like an anxious ghost, but her absence seems to have left a self-effacing little gap. I shall miss her, I can tell you. I had to hang the washing out myself and wash my own coffee cup.
We consoled ourselves by eating the bacon she had left behind in the fridge, and then got on with our lives, she will be back on Saturday in time for the children, and full of travellers’ tales.
Obviously we went to the farm, because of needing the bathroom to be completed before Thursday. Mark has glued all of the lino on to the walls now, and replaced the shower tray, so we are almost functional.
I painted the door, as above, which is nearly finished now. I had to stop there, because I needed a fine paintbrush, and mine has become too scruffy for words. Fortunately when we got home we discovered that the new one had arrived, and it is beautiful, slim and sleek and as fine as anybody could want. I am very pleased indeed, and excited about tomorrow, when I can try it out.
Number Two Daughter rang us on the Face Time thing on the computer whilst we were having a cup of tea at work this evening. She is still broken down in the Canadian Bush, or the Outback, or the Veldt, or whatever it is out there. She departed from her gainful employment with a taxi-driver hand signal and some rude words, and is now having an Adventure with her girlfriend. They still don’t have a car that works but have found somewhere to stay that is more comfortable than the car park where they have been camping for the last few days.
I was pleased about this, it was nice to catch up on her news, although halfway through the conversation I discovered a new button on the Face Time Telephone screen. When you poke this it makes you look to the other person as though you have got a cat sitting on your head. There is one to make you look like a tiger and one that makes it look as though there are lots of stars around you.
I tried them all, and laughed so much that I could hardly talk, and Number Two Daughter rolled her eyes and said that she had to go. It was lovely to talk to her.
She interrupted our discussion about the best sort of duckboard we should get for the camper van bathroom.
It is jolly nice to have young people around when you are becoming a boring old one.
