Happy equinox, everybody! I often think of the calendar year in terms of the Musical Cars competition which ends the Strathardle Highland Games every year. Cars drive round and round the field, and when the music stops the passenger leaps out and tries to secure one of the stakes in the ground at the centre.
After many years as a spectator, I drove and Joe Ogden ran a few years ago. We did rather well, although we didn't win. One tries to drive a little faster at one or two unfortunate points in the circuit – especially when driving past the dancing platform. This quadrant of the year – from here to the solstice – is definitely on a level with the dancing platform.
Otherwise, I have little to report.
My husband was unusually sleepy yesterday – “Have they drugged me?” I sat with him for an hour and a half, or so, knitting away. He didn’t even ask about coming home. We’ll see how things go today.
Helen and I are thinking of going to Strathardle tomorrow. There are apples to be picked and potatoes to be dug, and water to be drained for the winter. If I’m not here, that’s why.
My poor sister is terrified by the election. Understandably. I am obsessively interested in it, and glad to be viewing it at one remove. I hope Monday’s debate will be see-able on our television if one is willing to sit up until the middle of the night.
Apart from the Whiskey Barrel socks, I reached row 241 of the Uncia – seven rows to go in Chart D. I am beginning to get the hang of what’s going on at the moment, and can knit (slowly) across without much peering. Everything will no doubt change in Chart E.
And, later, I watched “National Treasure”. It was undoubtedly “good” but I doubt if I’ll go on. No one in it was very nice. I found I couldn’t knit as I watched, but I persevered and did another edging point on the hap shawl afterwards. Now that I’m back in the saddle, I’ll aim for one a day.