Somewhere in row 22. Things seemed a bit slower yesterday, not exactly hard, but it took me a bit longer to get the hang of each successive row. An additional motive, if one were needed, to knit all the borders at once. Once the pattern is mastered, I can whiz through the rest of the round. There’s a sort of lattice-work going on at the moment, which will soon subside.
Lent and general non-knit
We are poised, more or less, for the drive to Loch Fyne tomorrow. There are two ways to do it – drive to Glasgow, and then turn north up the west side of Loch Lomond; or go to Stirling, and then across country, and then up Loch Lomond as before. I’m going for the latter, this time.
There’s a tricky passage in Stirling itself because (oddly, to my mind) the cross-country road, the A811, doesn’t have its own exit from the M9. I am told that the secret, on the outward journey, is to leave the motorway at exit 10 and at the ensuing roundabout take the third exit, at 3 o’clock, and set off eastwards, with your back to Loch Lomond. The Red Queen would approve.
Alexander phoned last night about my husband’s dietary requirements (there aren’t many) and mentioned that they hadn’t been able to get any Weston’s Vintage Cider for me. I’ll go down to Tesco this morning, where they should have it. BYOB. There’s not much point in Lent if I can’t have Weston’s Vintage on Easter Sunday.
I broke my Lenten resolutions a couple of times, most notably when C was dying, and a week later at the time of the funeral. But mostly I’ve stuck to it, and lost about five pounds, so that’s good.
We bought a picture yesterday. It’s nice, but it seems at least twice as big and heavy as it did in the auction room. My feeling is that we are past our picture-hanging days, and need to wait until we can get help, but my husband seems to think we can do it. Maundy Thursday will be as penitential as anyone could wish, if we go ahead with the attempt.