Here we are again, after a pleasant family visit and a hard week of art. Where to start?
Even as I write, Thomas-the-Elder must be at Heathrow about to board a flight for Leningrad. A measure of gloom and anxiety hung over the household when we were there for supper on Friday night. Thomas had a life-saving bowel operation when he was 48 hours old, and another – also an all-night emergency job – when he was 14 or 15. Since then he has been subject to severe, disabling bouts of abdominal pain. Surgery can do no more, for fear of causing more adhesions. I think I’ve got that right. He knows how to take care of himself, but his devoted mother fears that borscht and boiled cabbage and irregular meals will be too much for him. In addition, he had, at that point, failed to make any contact with the family he is supposed to stay with for the first fortnight.
And the general mood in the household won’t have been improved by Ireland’s defeat of England (at rugby) yesterday. In London, to make it worse. In a thriller, but that’s small consolation to Englishmen. (Scotland beat Italy by a whisker, in Rome, our first away win for four years.)
I finished the socks I was knitting for James’ wife Cathy (who has very small feet) and cast on the yarn I bought at the Ally Pally last summer, to make a gents’-sized pair. Perhaps for Alexander. I pressed forward remorselessly on the train yesterday, and finished the 50 rounds of rib for the first sock. I don’t much like ribbing on dp’s.
A sock-picture will appear soon, but here for now is something more interesting and cheerful – Rachel in her striped Koigu and Thomas-the-Younger in his.
Upload problems today -- here's Rachel, but Blogger refuses to show us Thomas.
The Lavender Hill Mileses are going round to lunch with the Ogdens today, figuring that a replacement Thomas is just what Rachel needs to cheer her up. It is hoped that a joint picture will be taken of Rachel and Thomas and James-the-Younger, all in their striped Koigu’s.
And last night I started my sister’s shawl.