Colin, the sumo wrestler, was gone yesterday. Completely gone, including his bed. That corner of the room was empty. My husband says he walked out (as opposed to being wheeled). The other two men, John and Robert, have been the same ones all along. Both seem worse off than my husband, who continues to improve.

He rightly points out, however, that his release isn't up to me. I'm sure they won't let him linger a moment more than is necessary in an acute-type medical ward. I will try to talk to a dr today. I need to discuss the catheter, and "transfers" -- i.e., how he is at getting in and out of bed.

I got down to the post office yesterday and gathered in the Chicken Shop chilli sauce. Hellie says not to use it as a marinade, which weakens it somehow. Just slosh it on. So I will absent myself from Nigella for a moment and roast/bake a couple of chicken legs for one of today's meals.

Knitting

Here is the sleeveless vest. You can't really appreciate my sloped shoulders, but they went well. Madtosh DK, as I must often have said before, stands up for itself well and is easily recovered after a frogging. Not a single stitch had to be laddered up from the row below.

The size looks good. That doesn't prove a thing, but it's better than not looking good, as I'm sure you'll agree. I'll join the shoulders and have my husband try it on before I add the ribbing. Last time I had to re-do it right down to the armholes because the shoulders were too wide.

I then started the first of the eight Dunfallandy triangles, as hoped. It doesn't get any easier.

On Monday evening I watched a television program about the three northernmost British isles: Yell, Fetlar, and Unst. It was disappointing, although wonderful to see pictures of that magical treeless landscape. There was the briefest of moments when they showed an old film of women knitting, at absolutely unbelievable speed. Could it have been speeded up? I don't think so.

But the account of Unst didn't even mention lace, and the pictures of Muckle Flugga somehow missed the point. (I am sure I have told you that Kristie and her cousin Kath are lighthouse buffs, and that after we had been to the Unst Heritage Centre to be shewn the lace, they wanted to go on a bit for a glimpse of Muckle Flugga, so on we went. We saw it. It was an electric moment. The television program managed to make it look like any-old-lighthouse.)

I continue to think about Zealana Rimu and about hat patterns. I enjoyed your comments about NZ. And I agree, Barbara, that that tag about the possum was most tactfully written! It is interesting that both you and Pom Pom testify to how expensive possum is even in NZ itself. Could it not be farmed, like silver foxes here in the old days?