Not much news. Little C, the equestrienne, is still in a lot of pain. Her mother suspects a certain amount of kick-back from the painkillers, as well. She'll phone the GP and ask for a visit first thing tomorrow.
My husband was crosser and more miserable than ever yesterday, which may mean that he is recovering from his infections. I will try to arrange interviews tomorrow both with his consultant (who proved unavailable on Friday) and with the Elderly Medicine drs who are now on his case. One thing we can be sure of is that the NHS is as keen to get rid of him as he of it. If they are not discharging him, they've got their reasons. And grim as this half-life is for me, I'm grateful that they're hanging on to him.
One bit of seriously good news: Archie, who is finishing off his exams this week (with Higher Spanish, I think), will then, next week, be doing some sort of unpaid toil somewhere in Edinburgh – and he wants to come here!
If my husband is home by then, Archie is strong enough to help with night-time nursing if needed. We'll employ some sort of help during the day. Better yet, Archie knows better, I think, than anyone else in the family except me, how very disagreeable my husband can be. Well, lots of them know, but Archie has experienced it recently. And he still wants to come!
Presumably because of our blindingly fast download speeds. Never mind. And if my husband isn't here, it'll be fun to have someone to cook for.
Jean, thank you for yesterday's comment. I didn't know about the convention of the umpire holding the bowler's sweater, and am glad to add it to my limited store of cricket lore. The letter I quoted from the Telegraph the other day was illustrated with a picture of Flintoff tossing his sweater to the umpire in, I believe, 2006.
We had a dear friend in Birmingham who knew more than anyone else ever about that mysterious game. We were his guests at Edgbaston the day Brian Lara was 501 not out. The really weird thing about that day (from an American point of view) was that there was not the slightest hope at any point that either team could win. For Warwickshire (for whom Lara played) to have had a prospect of victory, they would have had to declare at the end of the previous day's play.
On with the Fantoosh. I've finished the ten-lozenge rank of lozenges and have embarked on the next one. Should I just go on? But, as you can see from the sidebar, there's a long way to go. I'm calculating the percentages from the fact that there are 156 lozenges to knit – overlooking the facts that there is a top edging and blocking to follow.
Still, for the stressful moment, on is where I will go.
Last night and the night before, I watched my favourite Coen Bros film, “A Serious Man”. It only gets better with repetition. It is the Book of Job, recast for our days.