My sister has been and gone – leaving behind the beautiful madtosh “Tannehill” DK for my husband’s new sweater (or at least to swell the stash). Why did they discontinue that one?
It was a good visit, constrained by the limitations of life here. We had a fine lunch with a friend in an excellent local restaurant (L’Escargot Bleu on Broughton St.: recommended) and a nice walk in the ever-remarkable Royal Botanical Gardens. Other things I had hoped to achieve fell victim to my general lack of peppiness. (I’m surprised the spell-check passes that one.) In particular, I had hoped to get to Dr Neil’s Garden in Duddingston which I never seen.
My sister has recently moved from CT to a retirement community near DC. A wise move, which her husband (more than herself) is enjoying a lot. But it meant giving up her garden, and that’s been tough.
Not much knitting got done while she was here, but a bit. I’m steaming down the second side of Gudrun’s hap, edging-wise. It’s easy enough that it can even be combined with Wimbledon-watching, at least sometimes.
My poor husband doesn’t like watching tennis; my sister tries to join in but hasn’t much grasp. It was difficult for me being isolated with two such idiots the day Djokovic went out – and indeed, the day before, when he was two sets down and rain suspended play. It means Murray has a real chance (he’s playing very well) but I love Federer too, and have a special place in my heart for fading great ones.
If Murray should win for a second time, he will forever rank with the greats of British tennis, going right back to the days when they played in long trousers.
I am interested in the Williams sisters too, but will give my husband today off (both Williams’es are playing) to build up his strength for the rest of the week.
Back to knitting – I had almost forgotten that I have subscribed to The Knitter: one of those late-night purchases; better, at least, than another stash-enhancement. A first issue has arrived and I like it.
Archie is here, and will be for a while. He finished school forever on Saturday, and went straight back on Monday to take part – for pay – in a drive to raise funds for a new sports centre. Archie and several others from his year will be ringing up Old Boys for the next fortnight, soliciting funds.
I think this method of fundraising – where an outside organisation moves in and teaches the local organisation (church, school, whatever) how to raise money from its own constituency – was pioneered by a distant cousin of mine, Lewis Wells (“Cousin Lewis”) who with Cousin Bert founded the Wells Organisation in the ‘50’s. Archie spent yesterday and today being taught how to make the phone calls. My sister says with scorn that any claim the Wells Organisation might have to priority in this field lay in the fertile imagination of our mother, herself a Wells by birth.
Google doesn’t have much to say on the subject, but that little suggests that our mother was right.
Pioneers or not, Cousin Lewis and Cousin Bert got to be very rich. Mother visited headquarters once and was amused to see a representation of the Crucifixion with pictures of Cousin Lewis on one side and Cousin Bert on the other.