I’m sorry about yesterday. It was Helen’s husband’s David’s birthday, and we all went out to our favourite local hostelry on Broughton Street, the Blue Snail. The arrival of more, perhaps smarter, restaurants in the vicinity has clearly done it no harm so far. It was packed to the rafters.

Not much knitting, although I’m a bit further forward with Rachel’s sock.

I re-read my blog entries for the last month of my husband’s life. Those were tough days, but I did a lot more knitting than seems to be happening now. A great-granddaughter was expected any moment; I was knitting Mary Lou’s Polliwog for her.

I fell asleep (literally) during “Fake or Fortune” on Sunday night. I think the moral is, I need to program knitting into an earlier part of the day. Perhaps I should attempt the quiz which has replaced Pointless, although I shudder at the thought.

The resolution of Sunday’s program (=fake) depended on the say-so of an expert, unseen and unheard, who seemed to be relying on the witness of her eyes (exactly as I had been complaining didn’t happen) despite all the science produced by the program.

I am contemplating another Italian adventure in early October, before the university term starts. Archie is game. Naples – Reggio Calabria – Catania, travelling by train except for there-and-back. Scylla and Charybdis seem to hold no fears for the Italian railway system. We shall see. I’m not sure I’m strong enough now, let alone in several weeks’ time.