Poor Andy Murray. On we go.

The early evening national news last night didn’t mention him in the headlines, and only got to the item at the end after a lot of football. Even my husband, who is not remotely interested, said “No tennis?” when he heard the headlines. The Scottish news, on the contrary, started in Melbourne and went on to football thereafter, despite having a surprise result to report. (Celtic got beaten.)

I keep thinking, rather irrelevantly, of Kipling’s poem, “Tommy Atkins”:

“Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ ‘Tommy, ‘ow’s yer soul?’

But it’s ‘Thin red line of ‘eroes’ when the drums begin to roll.”

What Murray has got to do is win Wimbledon – and that’s not impossible any more. Then he’ll suddenly find himself an honorary Englishman.

We had a nice weekend with Archie. I have measured the big comfortable Marks & Spencer sweater he was wearing, just in case Scotland win the Calcutta Cup on Saturday. We spent some possibly fruitful time with the Surface. Archie doesn’t like Windows 8.

I have also straightened out Amazon.fr, I think. They were apparently trying to use the old credit card number although they know the new one perfectly well, just as Amazon.co.uk knows it. My Amazon password is a highbrow French word. I always imagine a little frisson over there in Paris when I type it in.

I’d feel more kindly disposed towards credit card companies who interfere with my spending – not their fault, this time – if they had paid the slightest attention when I went to Theo and Jenni’s wedding. After years of blameless book-and-yarn buying from Drummond place, I suddenly turned up hiring a car and staying in a hotel in Old Saybrook, CT. The credit card people didn’t bat an eye.

Knitting

Beverly, that is exciting news about your class with Franklin and the picture of you with him. Here’s the link, from your comment yesterday. I didn’t quite like to post the picture itself, without your permission. No, the class I did with him was lace-in-general, Shetland and Orenburg – do I remember Faroese, or not? – with a scarf pattern of Franklin’s own thrown in. I’d very much like to attend a lace-edging class. He is, in addition to his other charms, a most conscientious teacher, meticulously well-prepared. And very well-informed.

The yoke of Ed’s Gardening Sweater has benefited from all this tennis. A couple more evenings should get me to the exciting shoulder treatment. That will probably go very quickly – I will find myself embarrassingly soon at the what next? moment. Even if Scotland win on Saturday, per impossibile, it’ll take a while for the yarn to get here.