Another good day. I must apply myself to becoming more strenuous. At least, today, I had a preliminary conversation with the physiotherapist about practising stair-climbing. And received yet another letter from the Royal Infirmary about a pre-hip-replacement appointment. The previous two having been postponed because I was ill, but they have resolutely not sent me down to the end of the list.

  C.’s daughter Christina came to see me today, with her husband Manaba and son Hamish. We played/sat, as appropriate, on the (artificial) grass in the garden.

  Knitting goes forward. I just counted the stitches — four more scallops until the second corner, and the number — to my considerable surprise— comes out even. (I am attaching edging to a large shawl.) I may      beat the baby after all, if I keep at it.

   I’ve been sorry to hear that Franklin is ill. It must be tough, away from his native land and required to support himself by native genius, as always. 

   I have nothing more to tell you about the Scandinavian view of Fair Isle knitting, but I haven’t forgotten my promise to do so.

Wordle : I disgraced myself today with the only five. Four was the base score. Theo and Mark got three.

L