A haar again this morning. I suspect it will soon be hot.

I had a fairly productive day yesterday, although not productive of news on the dining-room-ceiling front.

I dispatched Lizzie’s socks to London, had my photograph taken in a booth for use on my new driving license, paid in some cheques to the bank, laid in supplies for Strathardle whither we are going today. I should reappear here next Thursday. I’ll take the whole pile of paper and get to work on the telephone on Monday morning, ceiling-wise.

It will be very interesting to see whether those poor seeds, consigned a fortnight ago to the cold, cold ground, have made the effort to grow. I’ll re-sow, if not.

Joan Schrouder is going to be in Edinburgh for a day next month. She’s teaching on a Holland America cruise which will dock at South Queensferry. We are trying to contrive a meeting – that’ll be the day the ceiling comes down, of course.  I met her at my 2^nd Camp Stitches, on Lake George in 2000. That year, we could do three-day classes with one teacher. I and my pals opted for Joan’s shawl course – a day each devoted to Shetland, Orenburg, and Faroese.

The socks are getting on nicely – about half-way from heel to ribbing. Thank you very much indeed for your answers to my question about how to slip stitches. I am particularly taken with the idea of twisting the chain stitches along the edge of a standard heel flap.

Non-knit

I continue to yield to none in my dislike of the Olympics, but I have to confess to a growing enthusiasm for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. It is only the second time this has happened in the history of the monarchy, which encompasses quite a considerable stretch of time – think Aethelred the Unready, and then go on back. The other instance was, of course, Victoria, and it was on that occasion, I learn from Googling, that the phrase “diamond jubilee” was coined.

Victoria was only my age at the time – gosh! – but was too feeble to do other than travel in a carriage for a grand procession in London. Whereas the present incumbent, more my husband’s age, is bounding about hither and yon making public appearances almost daily. The flotilla on the Thames on June 3 will be rather wonderful.

And no one alive on earth today is at all likely to see another such occasion.

I’d better go faff about with preparations for departure.