It always distresses my pedantic soul when the word "carnival" is applied to anything except today. The word means, of course, farewell-to-meat, and even if Lent is not to be observed with quite that rigour, "carnival" ought to imply, I think, a day (or days) which precede a period of fasting of some sort. Merely prancing about the streets and singing and shouting doesn't entirely qualify, in my view.
Be that as it may...
The refrigerator arrived promptly, and looks much like its predecessor. It's not as tall as I expected (that's good) We were distinctly anxious in advance about whether it would fit between the hanging cupboard and the next wall. We measured and measured and measured, and we were right -- but we weren't sure of that until it slid back into its place. Curiously, the photograph seems to suggest that it stands forward of the wall cupboard, but that is not the case. Now there are far too many refrigerators around here. The City of Edinburgh will eventually remove our old one, if we can't find a deserving charity in the meantime. I hate throwing away a functioning machine, however elderly.
Today is the day of my ordeal with the oculist. One thing which has always been a comfort to me, when visiting my Eye Man, is that, whatever he says, it's not going to be a moral issue. No matter how bad my eyes turn out to be today, it won't be because I didn't floss, or didn't eat enough fruit and vegetables, or didn't exercise enough. Not that I accuse myself of any of those faults.
I have had a most sustaining message from my long-time cyber-friend Marion, who knows something about eyes. I'm still scared.
I finished edging it for the third time. I think it's fine, although it could probably do with being blocked again. For the moment I've just stuiffed it in the cupboard. Now back to the Fair Isle jacket. I'm concerned, again, that the transition from the part where I was messing around with colour, to the part where I am happy with my selection, is too great. Picture tomorrow.