It might well be called another day of non-achievement, but a very pleasant one. C. came and got me for an early Mass. Then we came back here and I nerved myself up for a family Zoom quiz.

 

While I was sitting in the kitchen preparing myself , I heard a loud, crisp explosion. It could also have been, as I know from a late, excellent Marjorie Allingham  the name of which I can’t remember, the sound of a heavy object being dropped onto a marble surface. My first anxiety was that the fuse had blown which regulates my electric Aga, although fuses don’t normally make such a noise when they expire, and their demise is usually prompted by an event such as switching a light on. I was just sitting there.

 

The Aga, however, seems to be fine. So does everything else. What on earth? I suspect I’ll find out, although for the moment everything seems to be in order.

 

We had a jolly quiz session, perhaps the jollier because there was no one there much under 60. We talked a bit at the end about my 90^th birthday. Alexander and his best friend Mark (of Wordle fame) weren’t able to celebrate their 6oth’s due to lockdown, and are soon to go off, with wives, to somewhere in Cheshire and hire in some superior cooks to cater for them. We could do something like that? I fear it might be too exciting.

 

But meanwhile no knitting or purposeful exercise. Back to work tomorrow.

 

Wordle: Three was the popular score today, including me. The popular pattern was ???, ???, grn. grn. grn, although I didn’t have that. The outliers were Thomas, with four; and Roger, who guessed wrong twice with the aforementioned configuration, five.

 

It might be called a day of non-achievement, but it doesn’t feel like it. Scotland beat Wales. The first half was a bit comme ci, comme ca, but we took over in the second.

 

No walk, no exercise. Daniela wasn’t here, because her small son was ill. He has been having ear aches – that’s not an organ to mess with. Knitting was more than somewhat hampered by the fact that Paradox picked it up at lunchtime today and carried it through to the kitchen. The knitting did fine – no stitches dropped. But the tangled yarn was impressive, and took me most of the match to straighten out. Once that was done, I finished off the rest of the tricky bits of the Calcutta Cup panel. There remains but one row, the top of the elephant, and then four further peaceful rows to finish the panel. And it has been put securely away from paw-reach for the night.

 

I’ve finished Sense and Sensibility, fairly cheerless to the end, and started re-reading Old Filth by Jane Gardam, which I found in my Kindle library. I remember it only very vaguely. It’s about lawyers, and FILTH is an acronym for Failed in London, Try Hong Kong.

 

C.’s daughter Christina and her husband Manaba came to see me this morning, with their sons. Here we are.

 

Wordle: I failed. Two brown vowels from my starter words, and the best I could do was to turn them green, at last, with a Jean-word in line six. Fours and fives elsewhere, except for a brilliant three from Mark. Never mind: Scotland beat Wales.

 Today’s big news is that Fergus (Helen’s youngest son) passed his driving test. Second attempt. Great joy all round.

 

Having dispatched him back to Bristol University, Helen came here and instead of making me walk, put me through some exercises and showed Daniela what I should do every day. (I’m pretty sure I distinguished “every day” amidst the Greek they speak to each other.) They are simple-sounding exercises, surprisingly tiring. They are recommended in a booklet the NHS gave me, for doing before hip surgery as well as after.

 

So that was a strenuous morning, but the knitting progressed somewhat. I now lack but one row of tedious knitting to finish off the numerals and the apostrophe -- ’23 -- in my Calcutta Cup panel. There are then two more simple rows on top of the cup itself, to suggest the elephant which occupies that space in real life. And then the containing square to be finished off. It would be nice to get the tedious bits done tomorrow morning so that I can knit a bit during the afternoon rugby – Scotland v Wales.

 

In the good old days, Wales turned out en masse for their matches here in Edinburgh – with their sisters and their cousins and their aunts and their daffodils and their leeks. I hope it is still so. I move so little that I wouldn’t know. There are none in Drummond Place.

 

And I’m getting on fine with Sense and Sensibility, although you’re right, Tamar (as always) – it’s not very cheerful. I can’t have read it very often. I remember the basic situation, and Willoughby of course – no one could forget Willoughby. But there have been some surprises – I had forgotten that there was a duel. And I don’t know, even now, what fate awaits the heroine.

 

Wordle: Ketki and Mark were today’s winners: home in three. Four for the majority, including me. Roger trailed in with six. He got stuck in the same Wordle-configuration as Rachel and Alexander and I: grn, grn, grn, ???, grn.  Mark and Ketki seemed to need only the central letter to go straight for the solution.  The others got the same score of four from different directions.

 Daniela got me out today by brute force. We walked to the corner and back. My hip is getting worse, I think: not just unreliable, but also a constant dull ache. Walking is not easy. A good reason for going ahead with surgery. There was a talk about anaesthesia, of all things, on the radio this afternoon during my nap. It got me up and out of bed pretty promptly. 

 

I moved forward with the knitting. I was in the midst of a row when we went for our walk. I hope I will at least finish it this evening When I do, there will be only one more row before the centre turn-around, when I begin to decrease. I’m doing the panel with the Cup in st st, as adumbrated. I have to remind myself firmly to revert to garter stitch for the ends of the alternate rows.

 

I must have knit the cup back-and-forth before now. I did a scarf, for instance, for Thomas Miles to celebrate the most recent draw, in 2021. The other end of the scarf has his initials, too. Colour-knitting while purling is no fun at all. That scarf, at least, employed only two colours. Not like now.

 

Tamar, thank you for the reading suggestions. I’ve never tried Terry Pratchett (I don’t think I like fantasy except for Alice) but maybe I should. I don’t know Barbara Metzger. I’ll add her to my list. Meanwhile I’m doing fine with Sense and Sensibility. It’s a bit grim, all right, but has the necessary sense of underlying peace and order.

 

Wordle: I was surprised yesterday that nobody else had my grid pattern. Today we all did – grn, grn, grn, ???, grn – except for Theo. Scores depended on how long we had to keep on guessing. Little Rachel and I scored five, with two such guesses. Poor Ketki needed six, with three of them. Four for everybody else except Roger, who logged in at the end of the afternoon with a brilliant three. He appended his WordleBot score: Skill 82, Luck 71. I’d love to have access to WordleBot but I presume that means subscribing to the Times.

 

 

 No exercise. Not good.

 

I got on with the knitting, though. Not far, what with unpicking one major and one minor mistake, and untangling, but still I’m further on that I was at this time yesterday. I’ll hope for better tomorrow.

 

I’ve finished Plath’s “Letters Home”. The total effect is, not surprisingly, pretty depressing. So is world and national news, at the moment. Maybe I need some Wodehouse. Or “Sense and Sensibility” – I haven’t read that for a while.

 

I heard some of the State of the Nation last night, since I sleep with the radio on. He sounded very vigorous, and in command of his text. I'm not a fan.

 

Wordle: We found it tough today – fours and fives throughout, except for Mark who scored a brilliant three. I was one of the fives, perhaps needless to report. My third and fourth lines were both ???, grn, grn, grn, ???. I was mildly interested to note that no one else had this configuration, not even for one line.

 Nice bath. No walk. C. is coming tomorrow – maybe she can get me moving.

 

Knitting went well. Encouraged by Joe’s cheerful reply, I embarked on the Calcutta Cup panel for the centre of his baby’s shawl. I could never be a designer. Charting, counting, counting again – it’s all too much for me, when all I want to do is knit. However, I got it done. I am too far advanced (but not by much) to have the panel be in the exact centre, vertically speaking. It’s in the centre, counting horizontally. My main problem at the moment is not to forget, in the excitement, that I’ve got to turn and go in the other direction (= start decreasing) when I’ve got 144 stitches.

 

At the moment I’ve got what feels like a Fassett-like accumulation of yarns. I had to add another ball of the colour I’m using for the shawl centre, since the Calcutta Cup panel is too broad to carry anything across. Then the two-row-two-stitch border needs two balls for the same reason. Then a new colour for the background within the panel. Well, I guess that’s not so many. One more tomorrow, when I start on the Cup itself. It is very satisfying to be doing this so near the actual event.

 

Kate Davies has sent us the last pattern for her Allover club. Nice stitch pattern, but the cardigan is too short for my taste. That could be remedied, of course.

 

I’m reading Sylvia Plath’s letters, prompted by something in the Sunday Times. Riveting. I know the end of the story, of course, but have no idea how it evolved. Her life and mine started out in a sort of parallel – we were within months of the same age, went off to college in the same year (1950), then to Britain, then to marriage. The differences are far greater than the similarities, quite apart from the fact that she was a genius and I am not. But as I was reading today, I discovered a similarity which is truly startling: both the Plaths and the Smitses had a family cat named Sappho. How often can that happen? My father chose the name in the hopes the cat would take the hint and refrain from motherhood. It didn’t work. I was young enough that I had never head it before, and have ever since felt a personal affection for the poetess and for the island of Lesbos.

 

Wordle: Another three! Alexander is the only one of our little group to equal my achievement. Mostly fours elsewhere, but Big Rachel and Mark needed five. I found it difficult. Yesterday my starters gave me four browns. Today it was one green, in the final position, and one brown, both vowels. You’d think it would be easy to think of something from the letters remaining, but it wasn’t. I heroically resisted a couple of tempting Jean-words, and finally thought of an unlikely candidate that met all the requirements. It was right.

 

 Thank you for all your suggestions about knitting for the Calcutta Cup. I don’t think a hat is big and serious enough for a victory. I knit one once for a draw (showing half the cup) and it got lost. But all is well. I wrote to Joe and Becca this morning and explained the situation and assured them that I would press ahead with the shawl even if they felt they wanted it Cup-less. But Joe replied at once to say that they might decide to bring this child up to support Scotland and would be delighted to have the Cup. So now all I’ve got to do is chart it with the new date. I’m approaching the centre of the hap which will be a fine place for it. The fact that the centre is knit corner to corner will add a certain piquancy, I feel.

 

I knit a few rows today: not much. Not much activity, either. I did cook the last and most complicated of last week’s Mindful Chef recipes. Helen was here this morning, a stalwart vegetarian. She agreed that tofu is not much use – that was the protein for the last Mindful Chef effort. And that jackfruit is hopeless. Today’s one was quinoa with roast vegetables. The only difficulty there is when I have to get the quinoa pan back across the kitchen from the stove to the sink, to drain the water after cooking. It’s not far; it can be done. But it's not entirely easy in my enfeebled state.

 

Wordle: Three for me today. I’m having a good month, so far. My starter words yielded four browns – an anagram-situation, which I don’t like. I struggled mightily, however, and finally thought of a word which qualified – not a very good one, in my opinion. But never mind that: it was right. Both Rachels and Mark joined me with that score. Fours elsewhere, except that Alexander needed five.

 Scotland won – again!

 

It was a thrilling match, right up until the final whistle, with the lead passing back and forth. This is a picture of Alexander and Ketki’s son Thomas, now at Birmingham University (thus, in the heart of England), watching the match at a pub with his mates. That’s Thomas on the left.

 

Alexander and Ketki themselves, of course, were here. They brought a huge television with them, feeling that mine was inadequate for the occasion. Both were wearing Calcutta Cup sweaters of mine from earlier years.  Alexander’s Fair Isle vest is one of the best things I’ve ever done. The television ran on the Internet which seemed a bit like magic.

 

I was exhausted when it was over – the match started late. I was too tired to eat. No knitting today. C. took me to Mass which involved a modicum of exercise. Otherwise I have rested and recovered. And I’ve had an idea. What would Joe and Becca think if I knit the cup and date into the shawl I’m knitting for their baby? (It would mean incorporating a square of st st into an otherwise garter stitch whole, but I think that could be accommodated.) I’ll ask. They might be horrified, being English. Indeed, Joe used to work for the English Rugby Union at Twickenham.  Eddie Jones himself congratulated Joe a few years ago on his performance in the London Marathon. 

But with ’22 not yet finished – that’s Fergus’ sweater – I can’t guarantee keeping up with things otherwise. Great-grandchildren take precedence even over Calcutta Cup wins – i.e., I will press ahead with the shawl whether or not I include the cup in it. And then finish Fergus’ sweater.

 

Princess Anne presented the Cup, as usual. She is a very faithful patron of Scottish rugby. I am sure what we saw was the fake Cup, which normally resides with the team that lost last year. The real one is here in Edinburgh because we won last year. They wouldn’t have taken it to London before the match. Plenty of time for a quiet handover later, if necessary. Which it isn’t.

 

Wordle: I am today’s outlier, with a five. Threes and fours for everyone else. My whole system these days is to enter a real possibility in line three (not a Jean-word), after my two starters. Today I inadvertently failed – the word was all right otherwise, but one of my two browns was in the same position it had previously occupied – and therefore automatically wrong.

 

I did much better yesterday, with a four. For much of the day, it looked as if no one was going to do any better, and Alexander and his sister Big Rachel both needed five. But then Roger and his son Theo undercut us all with threes. My sister – who wrote to me today about hip replacement – stands aloof from all of this, but it turns out she likes to see her husband and son properly acknowledged which is rather touching.

 

There is very little to report. I had a much better night, and am almost fully restored to my feeble norm. No walking, though. I cooked myself the third of this week’s four Mindful Chef meals. It was a vegan effort, with tofu, and I didn’t care for the result much, but I think I ate enough to have it count as a healthy meal. Daniela brought me some homemade soup which will be a pleasanter supper.

Thank you for all your comments about my fall. The frame I push around the house has wheels in front and little ski-s in back, I have a larger model with four wheels and a seat that lifts up to reveal a compartment for my sausages (if I could walk as far as the butcher's). I use that outdoors. Both actually belong to the NHS. Both seem bad for posture. I don't think I've ever seen a triangular one such as you describe, Shandy. It sounds rather interesting.

The literature I have been given to read suggests that after the operation I will walk at first with two sticks. 

 

I got on with the knitting. I now have 100 stitches marked off in the centre, so all I have to do is count a total of 44 at the two ends – they’re not the same – and I’m done. Well, half-done. Half-done with the centre of the hap. Still, it’s a start.

 

Poor Helen has made so many mosaics that her hand has frozen. Knitting has never done that to me.

 

Wordle: Another three for me – two in a row! And this word was a bit harder – only Big Rachel joined me with three. Theo needed six, and Thomas five. Four for everybody else. Lots of them, at least five people, whatever their final score, got hung up on ???, grn, grn, grn. grn. Mark and I were spared that configuration because our starters gave us the first letter.

 

Calcutta Cup Day tomorrow.

Groundhog Day

Just what was wanted – a uniformly grey day, not particularly cold. There was half an hour, maybe less, of bright sunshine in mid-morning. We’ll have to hope that Edinburgh groundhogs didn’t pick that moment to emerge.

 

I fell yesterday evening, on my way back to the kitchen after writing to you. Not very hard, and no damage was done, but there I was sitting on the floor. I crawled to a chair and hoisted my bottom on to it, sat for a while, then drank a glass of Complan and went to bed, where a fairly restless night ensued. I’m fully recovered now, or nearly, but it was an unnerving and uncomfortable experience. One of my main reasons for going ahead with expensive private hip surgery is in the hope of reducing the risk of falls.

 

What happened yesterday was that I was carrying the iPad under my arm as I pushed the zimmer frame along. As often. It slipped to the floor, and I slipped trying to pick it up. The iPad is fine, too. I have now tied a knitting project bag securely to the cross bar of the zimmer frame and will henceforth carry it in that.

 

Despite all this excitement I progressed well this morning with the canter square of the hap I’m knitting.

 

Wordle: every single one of us scored three or four today. I was one of the threes, I’m pleased to report. Maureen, thank you for your note about SCOBY (comment yesterday). I’m sure you’re right, that that’s why Wordle wouldn’t accept it. Another little achievement: the NYT scorecard tells you your overall average. Mine is rather dim, dating from those early days when I used lots of Jean-words. My technique has tightened up a lot since I joined our little group, and my ambition has been to get my average up to 90 before my 90^th birthday in the summer. Well, today I achieved it! 

 

Another good day, although again without much movement. I now have an appt (in six weeks’ time) to talk to a private surgeon. I trust the actual event (hip replacement) will follow shortly thereafter. I am terrified. Some things are best dealt with by not thinking about them.

 

The Calcutta Cup: the match is on Saturday. Alexander and Ketki (and perhaps some of their dependents) propose to come and watch it with me. (The match is in London this year.) That should be fun. England has a new coach – in the last few days – and a couple of their players are injured, and we’ve been doing rather well lately, so I suppose the case isn’t hopeless, as it usually is when we play in London. I won’t be totally devastated if we lose, because it will ease the pressure on knitting. But winning would be nice, too. Fight fiercely, Harvard!

 

I have progressed with the hap, although I am beyond the point when an hour’s knitting registers much if any discernible progress.

 

Wordle: All threes and fours today, except for poor Theo who got stuck on grn, grn, grn, ???, ??? and just managed to scrape home with six. I was one of the fours, and was perfectly happy with that. At the risk of giving something away – which I usually try to avoid – I will say that I entered SCOBY on my line three and Wordle rejected it. It is a familiar word to anyone who has dabbled in fermentation. A quick Google search confirms it as a perfectly real word. It wouldn’t have made much difference to my eventual result.

 A fairly satisfactory day. No out – I had my Tuesday bath. Helen struggled mightily with the problem of speaking to a doctor, and has succeeded in getting me referred to someone for a replacement hip. More struggles tomorrow may reveal more details. I am hoping to go back to that posh nursing home where I was for a fortnight last summer, for a fortnight’s convalescence. The cost which Helen learned today is, as they say, eye-watering. I don’t know whether it’s a general increase, or the specific cost of post-operative care. Probably a bit of both. I've seen them in action -- one of the women at our table had just had a hip operation -- and am confident I'll be looked after.

 

And I knit happily on with the new great-grandchild's hap. That’s something. Gudrun’s instructions are to proceed in this peaceful fashion until there are 144 stitches – no fiddling about with a tape measure. I’ve marked off 80 stitches to avoid countless recounts, and there are probably another ten at either end, so I’m making progress.

 

My knitting technique (very poor) is self-taught. I’ve had various tries at self-improvement, including the Portuguese technique discussed in comments yesterday, with the yarn around your neck. That’s one of my Craftsy classes, indeed. I’ve never made much progress. That probably means, I’ve never stuck to any system for long enough. Indeed, I was rather gratified once to discover that my technique – drop-and-throw – has a name of its own. I’m not the only one!

 

I had a delivery from Mindful Chef yesterday – one of those companies that provides recipes and ingredients. I used to eat with them a lot, and then not at all for quite a while. I’m stronger now, except for this blasted hip, so I ordered four meals this week. I  quite enjoy devoting half the morning to the cooking of lunch. It involves a fair amount of exercise, or at any rate a lot of standing up and sitting down again. I allow myself a few pages of my book after slicing the garlic and grating the ginger. Today’s lunch was a considerable success.

 

Wordle: Three for me today! My two starter words gave me two greens and a brown, and I then typed in the first qualifying word I thought of. There’s an awful lot of luck involved. Ketki had grn, grn, ???, grn, ??? from her starter word, but guessed wrong twice and wound up with four. Alexander and his sister Big Rachel and Roger were the other scorers of three. Poor Thomas needed six – he got stuck on grn, grn, grn, ???, ??? and guessed wrong three times. Five for Theo, four for the small remainder.

 

Again, I didn’t go out. Otherwise it was a more productive day. I unearthed a motley collection of Shetland yarn from stash and started that hap.

 

It begins with the central square, knit corner to corner which of course produces the illusion at first that one is making rapid progress. Every row begins with a YO, producing a set of dear little loops which will eventually be picked up to form the basis of the borders. The borders are then knit round and round, all four, increasing at the corners. That means that alternate rounds have to be purled, to maintain garter stitch. There are other ways of configuring a Shetland shawl in which that isn’t required. The last time I did one – for wee Hamish, above – I worried in advance about all that purling but in fact didn’t find it as bad as I expected.

 

The colours available in stash were pretty boring – I think my taste runs to the dull – but there are a few bright balls and I hope they might liven the whole if tastefully deployed in the feather-and-fan section.

 

Meanwhile Helen and I set ourselves to phone the doctor. Not to be lightly undertaken, these days. We eventually got through to the surgery. The man I want to speak to doesn’t have a telephone-conversation-appointment slot available for the next fortnight, but if we can get thought first thing tomorrow we might be able to speak to him tomorrow. Helen will try. (It’s no wonder a&e departments are overburdened these days.) Otherwise I’ll have to speak to one of the others. If I can.

 

Wordle: A wide range today, and I wasn’t the worst! Little Rachel needed six – she got grn, grn, grn, ??, grn and guessed wrong twice. Theo and his father Roger both needed five. Big Rachel and I were the fours, while the Loch Fyne Mileses – Alexander, Ketki, and Thomas – all scored three, as did their dear friend Mark.

 

 

 

 

 

A pleasant, windy day. This was the first day on which I could say with assurance, the light is coming back. I usually expect that on Groundhog Day, Candlemas, the Feast of the Purification. The American groundhog is a secularisation of an older British superstition. And it makes more sense here, with our uncertain weather. Groundhog Day used to puzzle me slightly when I was young (in Detroit, the Jersey shore, and Ohio). Of course there was plenty more winter to come, whatever that silly rodent supposed.

 

C. and I went to Mass, always satisfactory. But no knitting. I wonder if I should face the fact that I’m a bit stuck here, and start thinking about that great-grandchild due in April. In fact, I did a bit of that today.

 

And what I thought about was Gudrun Johnson’s hap. I’ve knit it at least twice. And this raises a question. I knit it from her Craftsy pattern. I didn’t devote much time to the problem today, but I couldn’t see a way to log in to Craftsy. I thought the courses I had bought – and there are quite a few of them, knitting and cooking – were mine forever. The pattern can be bought on Ravelry for not too much. Or I could figure it out for myself. But how do you get in to Craftsy these days? is the question.

 

Thank you for comments yesterday, especially yours, Shandy and Chloe, about hip replacement. Tomorrow’s job is to phone the GP again and try to persuade them to let me speak to him. Today after Mass I chatted with an acquaintance who is almost as old as I am – 90 in October. She stood comfortably throughout the conversation, while I sat on my outdoor walking machine. (My mother was in good form at 90. There was worse to come.) At any rate, my mind is made up; I have but to forge ahead.

 

Wordle: I’ve left the iPad in the kitchen – carrying anything is difficult with a walker, and I am always afraid that it will slip from under my arm. Can I remember today’s results? I scored an undistinguished five, I’m sure of that, in which I was joined only by Mark. He (alone) had the same configuration as I did for the penultimate line: ???, grn, grn, grn, grn. Otherwise threes and fours all round. Alexander, Big Rachel, and Theo were the threes. I may be forgetting somebody there.

 

Oh, dear. Again, no knitting. Nor much of anything else, either. I’m reading a book about the history of genetics, but that hardly counts as activity. What a lot was going on, all unbeknownst to me – principally but by no means entirely, the discovery of the double helix – during the seven years of my adult independence, four at Oberlin, three in Glasgow. Then marriage, motherhood, and here I am.

 

Wordle: Yesterday’s word was WORRY. (I’ve already forgotten today’s -- other Wordlers agree with me that each day’s word, once solved, is strangely difficult to remember.) My preceding line had been LORRY. Another possibility – except that my starters had eliminated S – would have been SORRY. Those are the three I mentioned yesterday in which, I think, the vowel is pronounced differently each time. 

We all got threes and fours today.  Alexander, his wife Ketki,  his sister Big Rachel, and his friend Mark all got three. So did my brother-in-law Roger. Thomas and Theo shared four with me.

 

 

 

A slightly better day, perhaps, activity-wise. No walking (it was cold), but I have nearly finished the other side of the front neck of Fergus’ sweater. Did I mention that, sitting across the table from him at Helen’s delicious birthday lunch on Sunday, I thought again that his shoulders have become too broad to fit into the sweater as presently constituted?

 

Thank you very much indeed for comments on health care yesterday. Anonymous, we are in the perhaps unusual position, these days, of having a GP we’ve known for years. When I talked to him about my hip some months ago, he was keen on the idea of having it done privately, one of the advantages being that he could refer me to a specific surgeon he knew. I want to speak to him again as I go ahead with the idea, no matter how long it takes to get hold of him. And I must make sure that the luxurious nursing home where I spent a fortnight last summer has room to take me in when a date for surgery is fixed. If one can concentrate on the minor problems one can to some extent forget how one fears and dreads surgery.

 

I made Cullen skink for my lunch yesterday – easy, delicious, nourishing. I tried to think – but it is impossible to calculate – how much easier it would be if I could walk. Easier, of course, to move around the kitchen. But I’ll still be 90 years old.

 

Wordle: we’re all back on form today, with a rush of fours, including mine. Alexander thoroughly redeemed himself with a three, and Theo needed five. I had ??.grn,grn,grn,grn in line three. It occurred to me – I’m not absolutely sure this is true – that the word I had entered in that line, and the subsequent one which was right, and another possibility which I couldn’t use because I had already eliminated that letter – all three of those words are pronounced (very slightly) differently.

 

Another pleasant day. Again, I didn’t go out – or knit. Helen came, and we dealt with some business, fairly successfully. We pursued the matter of getting my money out of that ISA account. There are some papers to be filled out, which are being sent. We rang up my doctor, who has got to refer me to a hip surgeon – but he’s away on holiday. Try again on Monday. I'm sure anyone in the practice could do it, bot I want to talk to him again. Helen had been to the bank and instructed them to pay my enormous income tax bill – so enormous that when I went on line just now, I wasn’t allowed to pay either Daniella or the accountant. The one will have to wait until tomorrow, the other until Monday. Pretty ridiculous. Helen and Alexander have power of attorney.

 

Thank you for your comments yesterday, about care costs and cats. Yes, Elizabeth, care seems to be free here in Scotland – if you can get it. Towards the end of my husband’s life, he was in what might be described as a holding facility at the Western General. A whole building devoted to the people we hear so much about these days – well enough to be discharged from hospital, but needing care. Eventually he got his care package – two carers, four times a day, all free. He was able, thanks to them, to be at home for the last months of his life, and to die here. And in the holding facility, he had his own room with en suite facilities. He didn’t like it much. I don’t know what the Scottish government does about care in care homes.

 

Wordle: A welcome relief, today, to have something to think about other than arthritic hips and income tax.. It was another tough word. I was very happy to scrape home in six. Alexander failed. Four was the basic score today. Five for Ketki.

 

 

A pleasant day. No walk, but some knitting. I’ve finished the left front of Fergus’ sweater and slid the stitches along to be ready to start the other side. Not much, but something.

 I think I’ve pretty well decided to go ahead and pay to have my hip replaced privately. Lying in bed this morning – a moment I often find conducive to productive thought – I remembered an ISA account that ought to cover it. In the general financial upheaval that followed my husband’s death, it got transferred into strange hands and since then has swallowed its own tail (=hasn’t paid interest into the general accounts). Helen’s husband David has spent an heroic day trying to gain access to it. Now I need to ring up our doctor and ask to be referred. I will allow myself two or three weeks in that highly comfortable old folks’ home where I spent a fortnight last May. They’re good on convalescence (physiotherapy, visits from doctors). What is to become of my CATS?

ISA means tax-free, so I don’t need to worry about having more or less forgotten about it. We’re in the midst of income tax this month. I feel rather sorry for Mr Zahawi (a remark unintelligible except to British readers). I, too, have had to pay penalties, after the upheaval mentioned above. And he’s a busy man.

Kirsten, the difficulty at my age when it comes to the "rainy day" issue, is not knowing how much to allow for what could turn out to be years of terminal care. I firmly believe that old folks ought to pay for it if they can, rather than relying on the state. But I would also like to leave (the value of) this house to my children. Inheritance tax is heavy here, but the government makes considerable allowance for a family house passed to direct descendants. It's probably simpler not to think about such things. 

 

Wordle: I failed. First time this year. Theo and Big Rachel did it in three. Thomas offered me some comfort by scoring six.

 No knitting, again today. How long will any of you want to go on reading this dreary chronicle?

 

Tuesday was my bath-and-hair-wash day, so no attempt was made at walking. David and Helen came to see me. He’s got one more day here, and then will be back here again at some point in February, so that’s not too bad. Today is Helen’s actual birthday. She was born just in time to avoid coinciding with Robert Burns.

 

They delivered much thought and advice about my hip; no decision. David and Helen both seem to think I should spend all my spare cash on it, rather than waiting for the NHS. Is it worth it at my age, is the question. Helen pointed out that a successful operation could mean that I would be able to cook. That's a serious incentive. 

 

Wordle: my starter words yielded two greens and two browns this morning, and I thought, I’ll score  a three! At last! But I guessed wrong. And then, in line four, guessed wrong again. So I wound up with yet another five. No one else in my little group did that badly. There were lots of threes and fours. Theo and Mark distinguished themselves with twos. Theo’s starter word gave him one brown. He seems to have lept from there straight to the solution.

 

We had a lovely birthday party for Helen yesterday. I got home far too tired to write, as I hoped you guessed. There was no one there except the five members of her immediate family, me, and an old friend whom I think perhaps both Helen and David knew in Cairo before they met each other. Something like that.

 

Mungo cooked a meal of restaurant quality.  Fergus was sous-chef and Archie washed up. We started with an interesting soup which I think was based on chestnuts. Then toast, with something amusing and delicious to spread on it. The main course was pilaf accompanied by a superb aubergine-based something. I think perhaps he said it was an Ottolenghi recipe. The old friend had brought two puddings, one of them Eton Mess, but I was too tired and too well-fed to stay for more.

 

And still no knitting. Poor Paradox is in heat – Helen is determined to have her spayed as soon as this is over, and I suppose she’s right. One of the characteristics of that condition is that she picks up my knitting and carries it about the house, with the predictable disastrous results. Daniela rescued it this morning, and has wound the loose yarn around the ball far too tightly. So I should have knit at least that much today, but didn’t Tomorrow, I hope.

 

Helen came, and we walked as far as the garden. It was a grey day, with a breath of spring.

 

Wordle: I’m not having a very distinguished month – 6 yesterday, 5 today. At least, no failures so far. Today’s word is tough but fair. Ketki and Theo joined me with five. Otherwise it was fours all around except for Mark’s brilliant three.