Thursday March 24, 2005
I wanted nothing more today than to stretch out and nap, repeatedly, until the wearies had gone. Graham wasn’t too far from wanting the same thing, and Dolly, well, Dolly never needs much in the way of encouragement to take a nap.
The little house by the fens should have been a quiet haven from the rush of modern life today, and that’s no mistake. It’s what we all wanted.
You can’t always have what you want however, and today was the last day before the big four-day Easter Holiday. I could have fed us perfectly adequately from my food stores but it would have been adequate rather than inspiring fare so we were obliged to go supermarket-wards, and to call in at B&Q on the way to pick up a few trays of bedding plants, garden dressing for the use of.
“I don’t wanna go,” I said, mournfully.
“I don’t wanna go either,” Graham agreed, with no less of a mournful tone.
“Let’s hide, then.”
“No. We can’t do that.”
“Oh. Well, you’re right, of course. Let’s get it done, then.”
It was awful busy out there, with the first burst of weekenders plodding in for their Easter holidays. I took the country route, reckoning that Boston would be one long traffic jam from end to end, and we made the trip interesting by counting 4WD vehicles, and matching drivers to types.
Here in our part of Lincolnshire the Land Rover is the 4WD vehicles of choice, driven in the main by sensible-looking folk of both genders equally. It’s astonishing how many similar cars there are on the roads, covering the entire spectrum of manufacturers, of all sizes, shapes and practicalities. We concluded that the Nissan probably runs a distant second to the Land Rover, with third place being taken equally by Isuzu, Mistubishi, and Suzuki. Runners up would include monstrously expensive wagons from the likes of BMW and Mercedes Benz. Nissan drivers tend to be large, practical-looking blokes. The others seem mostly to be driven by women, and the glitzier the car the glitzier the driver.
From this completely untypical and unscientific survey we were firmed up in our feeling that the Land Rover would be our best choice.
“Now comes the detailed research,” said Graham.
“Oh, lawks,” I said, mournfully.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do the research. You can do the test drives. How about that for fair?”
“Sounds reasonable. Let’s… oh, goodness. Will you look at that.”
We’d just turned out from the country lanes on to the main Grantham to Boston road, the other side of Boston, and there, just as I’d forecast, was the beginning of the long, long queue of traffic piling up to go through Boston itself. We were not much delayed but by the time we turned off into the retail park I’d already decided we’d go back home over the country roads once more. After yesterday’s long drive I didn’t fancy tackling heavy, slow-moving traffic.
Our shopping was soon over and the car, laden with bedding plants and bags of provisions, purred happily out once more.
“If we do have to get another vehicle,” I said, “I hope it’ll be as reliable and trouble-free as our little blue Ford.”
“Hard to argue with that.”
Dolly was mightily pleased to see us, unusually so. I wonder if she’d feared we would be out all day again. When we got home yesterday she was fast asleep but woke immediately and demanded much fussing, playing and cuddling. Which she received, of course, in good measure. She got it again today, too. She doesn’t seem to mind being left alone for short periods of no more than a couple of hours or so, and she’s not obviously upset by longer absences, either. I suspect she’ll be pretty P-O-d if we have to do an over-nighter but we’ll try to avoid that. And we’re certainly not intending to leave her alone for longer. In dire emergency of course, she could stay in a boarding cattery for a few days but in our judgement she’d not take kindly to that, wouldn’t eat, and would be severely upset by the time we collected her.
The rest of the day was occupied by napping. I’m pulling through my attack of the wearies but it seems to be a long job and I wonder if perhaps I’ve been suffering from a mild, non-specific viral infection. Now I come to think about it there was a short time some days back when I felt slightly feverish and throaty.
Haven’t picked up a paint brush for a while, and I’ve neglected my email, too. We’re hoping to get a bit of gardening in tomorrow and, if so, the fresh air and gentle exercise will buck me up no end. Saturday, Sunday and Monday are forecast to be wet and unfriendly, so I’m planning to use the time sorting out domestic files, performing a radical purge. I keep papers far too long.
So, there you go. We’re all tucked up safely for the big weekend, planning no more than quiet, methodical industry and a bit of telly-watching. On Tuesday we’ll get cracking again, both of us picking up paint brushes, though of different kinds and purposes, and normal service ought to be resumed shortly afterwards. As normal as can be expected, that is.