I thought I might just slope off to bed tonight, again, and leave the blog unwritten. But I’ve been watching the new Andrew & Andrea, over my miso soup – you must see it, episode 70. Especially the final bit, the interview with the family who run Jamieson’s of Shetland. Not to be confused with Jamieson & Smith, as we all know. It’s very interesting indeed.

I decided a couple of things, as I watched – if Scotland win the Calcutta Cup again this year (don’t worry – we won’t) I’ll knit another Fair Isle vest, for one of Alexander and Ketki’s sons. As you can see from the picture above, Ketki will take very good care of it. He won’t actually have to wear it except on ceremonial occasions.

But the second thing is, I need a work of art to inspire me, as Hopper’s “Gas” did last year. I often felt, as I was knitting upwards, that I didn’t have enough colours to choose from. I think the result is very successful. So I need – not just a work of art, but one with a relatively limited palatte.

That’s as may be. Today I went to see a doctor about my recent “bloods”. I’m fine. She is referring me on to a dept. of geriatric medicine to see if they can find something which a GP’s tests cannot. She remembered me better than I did her – she came here in my husband’s last months. She asked after Perdita.

While I waited, I got the last few rows of the pre-neck-shaping Stronachlachar finished, and also wound the next skein.

Non-knit

Mary Lou, I “discovered” both William Trevor and Alice Munro in the New Yorker. I don’t very often read the story, but I always give it a couple of paragraphs to draw me in if it can. Stephen King (of all people) had a couple of brilliant short stories published there. in the '90's.  I sought them high and low, and was delighted to find them at last in a collection called “Everything’s Eventual”.

The stories are called “The Man in the Black Suit” and “That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French”. I may say more on the subject when I run out of knitting to talk about in the future.