I am very pleased to tell you that I was awoken this morning by the unfamiliar sound of running water just outside my bedroom window.

I sat up for a moment and tried to work out what was going on.

Then I remembered.

It was Mark’s garden pump.

We have clement weather. The sun was shining on its solar panel, and water was joyfully gushing out of it and pouring into the trough below.

I was very excited, and have taken a photograph for your edification.

It only works in the mornings. In the afternoon when the sun has moved around it stops, but that is perfectly fine. It is merely there for entertainment purposes.

I wonder if we should get a goldfish.

Still, the weather has been magnificent. It is so wonderfully, unexpectedly clement that I have removed my thermal vest.

I can hardly believe my own recklessness, but I have done it.

It is wonderfully liberating, dispensing with underwear so boldly, just like the ladies did in the nineteen sixties, except I have not burned my thermal vests, merely stored them prudently in the drawer for the next time when I shall need them.

All the same, it has been very pleasant. It is much easier to move when one is not encumbered by half a dozen extra garments, some Australians in the taxi once said to me that it was the worst thing about England. They did not at all like having to waste half of their lives donning, and later removing, layers and bulky layers of protection against the elements.

I agree with them. Today, with only a single jersey, has been truly splendid.

I might put the vest back on to go to work. It is still chilly at night.

I have occupied the day with plenty of consolidating. Mark has arrived safely on his oil rig, and I have got a week to myself, in which I have resolved to do some spring cleaning.

I do not know if this resolution will last. I do not feel very enthusiastic at the prospect.

Today I did not do very much cleaning. I had intended to clean the oven, but did not get that far in the end. Cleaning the oven is an unrewarding task. It is very dreary to spend ages and ages scrubbing sticky black filth out of a cupboard, and then when it is shining and clean, or at least a bit less sticky, to shut the door on it and never notice it again. If I have cleaned something I like it to sparkle at me, although I have got no intention of bumping into the open oven door for a week in order to appreciate my efforts.

I wiped some oily dribbles off the kitchen cupboards, which helped.

What I did instead was firewood. Mark very helpfully brought me a huge stack of firewood back from the farm last week, although we were far too occupied with camper van activities for either of us to be interested in cutting it up then. Hence when I took stock of my assets this morning, there was a stack of heavy timber beams in the yards, and no wood in the fireplace.

It is not warm enough to let the fire go out. We are not sub-tropical yet.

I occupied a very great deal of the day in reducing the beams to stove-size, and quite a bit more in sweeping up sawdust, both from the yard and the conservatory and the kitchen, where it seemed to have spread itself with liberal enthusiasm.

After that I thought that I would be nice to me. This is usually Mark’s job, but he is not here, and takes some reminding when he is. Today I was in sole charge of people being nice to me, and so I thought I would not let the side down.

I made some sushi for my taxi picnic, and invented a new sort of pancake, by chucking eggs and prawns and ginger and rice flour into the liquidiser all together, along with some interesting spicy things like lemongrass and chilli. I cooked this slowly and cut it into bits so that it will last for a few days, it would not do to eat it all at once and become portly. I can tell you now that it has already improved my taxi rank evening, and I am feeling very contented indeed.

Mark arrived safely on his oil rig and reports that everything is well.

It is only a short trip. I do not have to be responsible for being nice to myself for very long.

He will be back in a week.