Jeanfromcornwall, and rosesmama, thank you very much for your comments about shirt cuffs. Reflecting on memories of James Bond and Cary Grant fiddling with their cufflinks, I’m sure you’re right, and am going to leave the cuff as it is currently orientated. That means that when the first, too-big one is ripped out, I can leave a few rows, and won’t have to interfere with the delicate decrease row. It’ll be time for another picture tomorrow.
The Palin-is-the-grandmother story is well-represented on the internet – there are links from the Drudge Report and Huffington. It seems to have originated at Daily Kos. Right-wing commenters, the considerable majority, splutter with indignation. Left-wing ones say, maybe there’s something in it. Few if any seem to grasp what seems to me the central point, politically: if it’s true, Palin is an accomplished liar.
As you say, rosesmama, it would require a massive cover-up. I think there are probably enough suggestive details – the relevant daughter was out of school for the relevant months with mononucleosis – that an investigative reporter or two will send a junior to look into it, and if it’s true, we’ll soon know. I often think that the only freedom which really matters is freedom of speech, freedom of the press.
Helen sent me some pictures yesterday. I have replaced the “Various Grandchildren” in the sidebar with her picture – same grandchildren, same occasion, much better pic.
Here is her son Fergus with the showbench which includes his winning entry in the Paper Plate Face class. It is hanging on the wall with its red card attached.
And here is Mungo, with his first-prize Decorated Wellington Boot. I was afraid he might have gone too far, since his boot is no longer usable as such. But no, the judges liked it.
And here is a Typical Scene: some of our party watching (or not watching) events on the field.
Standing, from left, Mungo; Alexander in an old KF sweater from the days when Rowan sold kits; Thomas-the-Elder and his girlfriend Anna, the ones who lost their car in an accident the evening before; Rachel; Helen's husband David, who seems to be talking on the telephone. Seated, my husband and I -- note the Fibertarian Party sweatshirt.