I saw my oculist yesterday. He seemed as pleased as I am with my new eye -- and what a joy it was to be able to read right down to the bottom of the chart. New glasses will be ready in a day or two (I had thought it would take more than a week), and I should be able to go right on driving after the second operation, on September 3. So that's good.
But I spent all of yesterday, at least all the hours of it in which I was standing up, in some considerable discomfort on account of my left foot. Worse than it had been in London. My doctor sister, who is also my most faithful reader, suggested ibrupofen. I started taking that yesterday evening, and also discarded my shoes in favour of an old pair of Timberland loafers -- too good to wear, and so not worn out. Things seem much better this morning. I have an appointment to see a doctor on Friday but may not need it.
I suppose it is inevitable that one spends one's eighth decade patching up one bit of oneself after another. One should be glad to have an eighth decade.
is full of policemen. Where did they get them all from? We saw some on Whitehall carrying those sinister little machine guns. There were constant warnings in the stations to keep your luggage with you at all times. As if a suicide bomber would do anything else.
We saw no yarn, but lots of art. "Colour After Klein" at the Barbican was probably the best, but Joshua Reynolds at the Tate was pretty good too. The Royal Academy summer show was a bit of a bore.
Our son Alexander is a brilliant cook. Above, he is preparing Thomas-the-Younger's Christening lunch, with help from his son James.
I have taken up the Princess shawl where I left off, with very little loss in my memory of the pattern. Nearly finished with repeat no #52.
The Wallaby is at a pleasant no-brain round-and-round point, and that progresses too.
I've got the Bavarian Travelling Stitch books, and feel a bit daunted. Do I really want to embark on something so ambitious? Perhaps better to attempt travelling stitch on something smaller first, a child's vest, maybe. I got out a Jamieson book and began thumbing it for simpler possibilities for my long cardigan with pockets. I am always surprised when I hear of someone who has finished a project and doesn't know what to do next. For me, a serious part of the pleasure of knitting one thing at a time is thinking, like this, of what comes next, refining ideas, choosing yarn, so that the instant the last end is woven in or button sewed on, the next thing is ready to go.
I don't get emails from them any more, but I'm still a member and occasionally have a look when I'm at Yahoo anyway. The numbers continue their inexorable rise, the messages seem as dull as ever. (Things are much more interesting here now that I do all the talking.) But I was struck by the fact that there were nearly 700 fewer messages last month than in July '04. That's odd. Why did it happen?