The sunshine has disappeared behind some fat, grey clouds, and it is raining again.
It has not been raining for very long. You will be pleased to hear that I dried all of the washing in the garden before it started, and only Mark’s heavy moleskin trousers have had to be hung on the rack indoors to air out.
I do not want to have to light the fire again, but we might have to if things don’t improve. I suppose I was being a bit optimistic. It is only April.
It is our last working day for a little while. We are going to have some time off.
We thought last week that we had just got too tired to carry on. Actually, that is not quite what happened. What really happened was that I burst into tears and told Mark that I hated Ted and hated taxis and loathed housework, and was completely fed up of working all the time and never having any money.
Mark listened thoughtfully, and then rang Ted to tell him that he needed to start taking home some money out of their business before his wife divorced him.
Ted is married as well, in a common-law sort of way, and understood this. Then Mark said that he needed to have some time off, in order to do things around the house and to be with his wife and to go away in the camper van. Ted likes not working as well, which is what he is doing on their yacht, and so he understood this too.
The eventual upshot of all of this was that Mark brought home an extra couple of hundred pounds to put in to the mortgage, and he is not going to go to work at all this week, after today, unless there is an internet emergency somewhere between here and Preston. He had got to go to work today because of internet things, but he has finished now, and our time will be our own.
Sometimes it is a good idea to have a tantrum.
I am writing this on the taxi rank, but I have got the most awful case of gate-fever. I do not want to be here at all. I am longing with my whole soul for freedom.
I spent today getting the house clean in preparation for not doing anything all week. This was not very nice. I had forgotten that I had not cleaned the children’s bedrooms and bathrooms since they left, and you might recollect that Oliver had not been very well.
I will draw a veil over that part of the day.
When I had finished cleaning the children’s floor I bathed the dogs, by way of light relief, and then cleaned our bathroom.
I hoovered my way down the stairs and then it was done. Whatever I decide to do with our days of not working, I do not need to feel domestically-related guilt. There is no fire bellowing out dust, the dogs are clean and polished, and the children are gone. Hence there is no sensible reason for the house to deteriorate into squalid grime even if I do not lift a single dishcloth for all the rest of the week.
I had got an hour left before it was time to go to work, and so I painted some shadows on the wardrobe door. I am trying very hard indeed to get it finished, I would like Mark to put it on the wardrobe before we go away.
My plans for our week off are as follows.
We are going to buy some paint and repaint the house, and Mark is going to change the tyres and service the taxis. We are going to repair the fridge, which is making a horrible noise, and also the washing machine, for the same reason. Then we are going to wire some more plugs into the camper van, fix the heater and the water tanks, hang the wardrobe door and go on holiday.
I am looking forward to this very much.
I shall let you know how we go on.
Have a picture of my daffodils.
