A certain sense of fed-up-ness here. The weather, after ten days or so of vernal, has turned nasty. Snow is forecast. And the postman managed to drop a sorry-you-weren’t-here card through the letterbox although we were here (in bed; it was early). I have never failed to hear the doorbell before, often from bed. I don’t think he tried.
The package he failed to deliver is almost certainly my raspberries. The sorting office – where one goes to present one’s lucky-dip failed-to-deliver card -- has in the last few weeks been moved from nearby to the other side of town.
We are planning to go to Strathardle tomorrow for snowdrop-and-strawberry planting. Snow could make that awkward. And the raspberries, obviously, have to go along. Decisions are necessary.
I have been looking, on-line, for clothes to wear at the wedding. A depressing business. The difficulty being not so much the clothes, as me.
Still, I knit resolutely on. I have finished the sixth row of the 12th repeat of the Princess centre. I try to stop myself making long-term projections: will I finish this repeat this month? for example. We are planning to go to London for more art pretty soon (more cause for gloom), so maybe not. It is better to think small: I should manage rows 7 and 8 today (I’m engaged in the Slow Movement at the beginning of the repeat). And, if I really want long-term, I think I’m still well on course to finish the Princess this year.
Let’s leave it at that.