Meanwhile, I'm here, holding the fort.
Not that the fort needs a lot of holding. My main tasks this time are (1) to make sure the hanging baskets are sufficiently watered... erm, so far, the weather has done that one rather nicely for me, and (2) to put the dustbin out for the bin-men. I wheeled it out a few moments ago, trudging it up the drive in the rain, and angling it in the only place where it won't wind the neighbours up.
There was a phonecall earlier.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hello, is that Mr Stubbs?" The line had that giveaway inter-continental crackle.
"Nope. They're away I'm afraid,"
"Oh. Are you a family member?" she said, pronouncing every syllable carefully.
"Yep."
"Ah. I'm calling from [some company or other]. Would you mind taking just a moment of your time to answer just two short questions?"
"Um... two..."
"Yes, just two questions sir, then we can end the call. Is that alright?"
"OK, well that's one."
"I'm sorry sir, could you repeat that please?"
"Yes certainly. That was one question, plus you asked me whether I can repeat it, so that's two. Thanks very much for your time. Goodbye."
I think I should have been a little nicer. It's not her fault. I just don't like the idea that a company can employ a lady in Hyderabad for pocket money, train her how to talk to British people (How about The EastEnders last night?) and then force her to ring me up out of the blue to sell me something I don't want. It all seems like a terrible waste of everybody's time to me.
It's very quiet without The Intrepids. I'm noticing it more this time. I sat in the conservatory, laptop warming my knees and a cup of Russian Caravan steaming into the cool air. Rain was pattering into the glass windows, rhythmically. It was beautiful to listen to - just the symphony of different sounds and beats, running and gurgling and pounding onto the roof. It's rare in this house that we're not accompanied by the television, Classic FM or a conversation about who reset the sat-nav and parked their shoes in an unsanctioned location.
Not today. Just good old rain. Oh and a starling flew into the window.
I also made a curry. It was supposed to be a korma but I had an incident with the spice rack and covered the chicken in half a tub of paprika. It was alright though. I might write the recipe down.
This, I imagine, is what life would be like if I did live on my own - a mixed bag of beautiful solitude and quiet boredom. It won't be long either, before I slip into doing zany things like wearing the oven gloves as slippers or singing Christmas Carols into the tumble dryer. Like the time I scared myself in the bathroom mirror, making faces with a towel wrapped around my head, I can be my own worst enemy sometimes. If I do end up living on my own, I think I'll need some good strategies to keep myself normal.
The lady from India was the only person I spoke to today - thousands of miles away, and I was rude to her. I feel bad about that, though technically she did actually ask five questions.
Oh well. Back to work tomorrow - that'll be a barrel of laughs.
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