I did it!

There's something to be said for blogging. I was peacefully knitting away on the Clapotis last night, watching an episode of the Simpsons, when I realised that the night was no longer young and that I had PROMISED to sew those buttons on. So I did. I'll hold off on the final photograph until I've got it blocked. It looks pretty good, until you try it on and see how awful the neckline is. I'll take a picture of it with the terrestrial camera, too, for archive purposes. I've become sloppy about the paper archives since I started blogging. I know I could beam digital photographs into the ether and get them back through the letterbox as prints, but I never get around to doing it.

I haven't heard from W32.sober.O for 24 hours. I hope that means the infected machine is cured -- or maybe it just isn't switched on on Sunday? If I was getting hundreds, that computer, wherever it is, must have been sending many, many thousands. I'll keep fingers crossed through today, just in case.

The excitement of the promotion of Cathy's book sent me back, yesterday, to my mother's first and best, A Talent For Murder. (Her name was Anna Mary Wells and there are lots of cheap copies on Abebooks.) It's not half bad. I wonder if I have ever before re-read it? I was ten when it came out in 1943 (no secrets here). I certainly read it then, and remember it vividly, including whodunnit.

The celebrations of the 60th anniversary of the end of the war in Europe are raging. I only really grasped when we went through this ten years ago for the 50th, that this anniversary is far more meaningful to people here than the real end of the war, in August. My husband was serving in the Far East so he, like all Americans, regards the real end as the significant date.

We are reading Churchill's "The Second World War" as our bedtime book at the moment. There's some good stuff there. I'm learning a lot. He paid meticulous attention to detail, a characteristic I hadn't entirely expected. Had he been a knitter, he would have got that neckline right. A little paragraph in one of the Sunday papers yesterday recalled that, the day before the German surrender, he wrote to the Ministry of Food ordering them to make sure that there was enoigh beer in London.