I promised you a proper blog entry, and will attempt it, but there is shamefully little to report.

We have had a very sombre day, 11/11. What can it mean to young people, all this fuss for a war that ended a century ago? I went this morning with Greek Helen and our niece C. to an exhibition of very modern art at the Gallery of Just That. We got there a few moments before eleven, and sat in the car to listen to the Silence on the car radio. Helen said that when she was walking her dog on Carlton Hill this morning, there was a lone piper up there. I think that was part of the programme.

The knitting of the Calcutta Cup vest can scarcely be said to be even inching forward, but I am doing a few rounds from time to time.  It is progressing.

I have ordered the Schoolhouse Press’ “Complete Surprise” book, thinking of my cleaner’s forthcoming baby. Up until now, I have knit the pattern supplied on a mimeographed sheet by the Sunday Times many years ago – you had to send in a(n) sae. That dates it.

It’s a double-breasted version which I don’t think I’ve seen elsewhere. The trouble with it is that when you pull it across the chest to button the double-breast, the side seams are pulled forward out of line. I’ve got EZ’s original, in whichever of her books it appears, but I thought it would be interesting to see all the modern options. Or I could knit a Polliwog.

But the big news on the knitting front is that next year’s bride thinks she might want to wear one of my veils. The wedding is next July – Rachel’s younger son Joe to his Becca. There would scarcely be time to knit her one of her own, but I would be terribly happy to see her in one of the others. Lucy, who married Rachel’s elder son Thomas, wore Sharon Miller’s Princess shawl, the work of years. Rachel’s daughter Hellie had another Miller shawl, substantially smaller. If Becca goes for that one, I could block it again. Blocking the Princess requires clearing the dining room of furniture and crawling around on the floor for quite a while. I’m not sure I’m up to it these days.

Non-knit

I’m glad you’re interested in my cats, especially Ron. They are remarkably different people despite being half-sisters and having been brought up similarly (=same furry mother, same human family, translation to Drummond Place and to me at the same age). They both came to bed again last night. I go to bed alone. When I get up to pee in the night, I find Paradox/Persia on her blanket. And this morning, when I woke up at dawn and stretched out my right hand, I felt fur. Perdita had joined us,