Yesterday

...was more than ordinarily eventful.

1) After two months of faffing about, I phoned my oculist and asked him to refer me to the NHS for my eye replacement operation(s). I should be called for assessment in about three months, he said, and for the operation itself in about six. That's fine, since I have already decided to live on the edge and continue driving right now for the sake of this year's vegetable-growing. If the winter looks like wearing on with no action, I can always go private in January, but the politicians make so much fuss about "waiting lists" these days that I suspect even old-age pensioners in Drummond Place will be dealt with in reasonable course.

2) I decided to take the Coward's Way Out with the Fair Isle jacket, and leave the unsatisfactory neckline as it is. If Rachel really can't stand it, I can always re-do it later. I think that would be less painful psychologically than another fortnight with the damn thing now. It still needs buttons to be bought and sewed on, a much-loathed chore; and blocking.

3) In the afternoon we went to an auction view, a frequent entertainment. This time, it was the contents of a country house somewhere, removed to Edinburgh for sale. It included -- to stray from the point -- a number of costume items, nineteenth century, beautifully kept. I hoped to see a Shetland shawl -- they became high fashion in the mid-century. But no.

However, there were also lots of books. I'm not sure I've ever had a copy of Bentley's Horace in my hands before. It's boring -- we don't have to buy it. But there are two items my husband wants, and I am going back this morning to bid for them. I'll take my knitting, in the hope it will keep me calm, but it won't. I will have to lie down with a cold compress this afternoon. One of his items is six volumes of Neale on Gentlemen's Seats. (Pray, don't misunderstand me, as the dreadful Mary Crawford might have said in Mansfield Park.) We think that lot has been estimated rather low. The books are nicely leather-bound, and contain lots of nice engravings, so I'm not too optimistic, although we're prepared to go well over the auctioneer's estimate.

The other is the complete Cook & Wedderburn edition of the works of Ruskin, all 39 volumes. We counted. Sets the pulses racing, no? My husband says he has seen it only once before in his life. Then, it cost £20 which was far more than he could afford. Now, it will cost about what one eye-replacement would cost privately. But, hey! we saved that much yesterday morning. The bindings aren't particularly attractive, and there are no pictures; I have high hopes on this one. But of course the Internet means that everyone else in the world who knows about the Cook & Wedderburn edition of Ruskin, will know that it's coming up.

I'll tell you the results tomorrow.

Meanwhile, above is a pic of the current state of Rachel's striped Koigu sweater, in the country.