Judging from the television news last night, I don’t think That Baby had a shawl at all. He was wearing a magnificent Christening dress which every royal baby since William the Conqueror has worn (I exaggerate slightly) – it got a bit fragile recently, and has been meticulously reproduced. But no shawl.

I’ll study the pictures in today’s papers with care.

Googling seems to reveal that Shetland presented the infant prince with a Christening gown, rather than a shawl, and the story from New Zealand is even more confusing – did someone knit something for him from Margaret Stove’s “Wrapped in Lace”? But they must have had things in drawers, as I said yesterday – including the shawl Margaret Stove herself was commissioned to design and knit for Prince William.

I didn’t get much done of my own knitting yesterday – the statutory two rounds of Rams & Yowes, completing the third row of sheep; and some delicious and restorative Milano. We got to the doctor’s office on time, and had our flu injections, but it felt like a day’s work.

Today’s event is art-historical and therefore non-blog-able. And I must also get beds ready for Greek Helen and her sons.

Reading

The Crime Writers Association is polling its members to discover the best thriller ever written, the best series, and the best writer. (I’m not tremendously impressed – no nomination for Traitor’s Purse or Tiger in the Smoke.) Then a Telegraph columnist produced his own short list. That one startled me by including Agatha Christie’s “Nemesis”, a very late work and one I had never heard of. “The murderer sticks out like Miss Marple on an 18-30 holiday, but the inability to construct the usual clockwork plot seems to have freed Christie to explore the themes of evil and retribution with rare power.”

So I’m reading it (that’s the joy and danger of Kindle), and enjoying it. I’ve never read Reginald Hill at all; he’s on all the lists. Nor Louise Penny, recommended by Kristie.