The weather has turned miserable. We have problems with the Burnside driveway – it floods, and cars sink in the mud. I hope Rachel and Ed will not suffer too badly. I’m sort of glad the cats and I are not there to share their suffering.

 

I was very sorry to hear of Annie Modesitt’s death. Thank you, Jenny and Mary Lou. She had a tough time. I have followed her for a long time except that I sort of lost hold lately when she began skipping from platform to platform as so many do. I took a class with her once, here in Edinburgh, on combination knitting. I didn’t make much headway with it. I think that was during a last family holiday to Europe. Gerry came in towards the end of the lesson – an unexpected plus.

 

I sort of hoped that after his death and the grieving, her fibromyalgia might improve. Instead it was overtaken – before his death – by her own cancer. Her posts, such as I have seen lately, were always upbeat but the news didn’t sound good.

 

I haven’t done any knitting today, but I have addressed the problem of my friend’s Orkney hat. I find that Loop in London actually has some Orkney yarn, angora and lambswool DK, which might be suitable. But (again) they’re out of two of the three necessary colours. I’ve asked-to-be-notified but it might be more sensible to go back to the leftovers from wee Hamish’s shawl in the colours of the South African flag (they must be here somewhere) and see if something couldn’t be done with them. At least I’ve addressed the problem.

 

I wonder if anyone in America will reflect on the difference between Trump’s Covid-19 and Boris Johnson’s. It is entirely possible that the ambulance turned up in Downing Street a tad more promptly than it would have for you or me; otherwise, Boris was entirely an NHS patient, as you or I would have been, whereas Trump is being treated as if he were the Emperor of the World instead of an elected politician.