I’ve done no knitting at all for the last two days. You haven’t missed much.

I like Kate Davies’ latest pattern for this year’s club – Breton stripes, always an appealing genre.

And I forgot to mention that Andrea let slip in the latest episode that they will be at the EYF again. I spoke briefly with them last year. This year I will be happy to slink away unobserved. My one class is Felicity Ford’s “Colours of Edinburgh”, on the Friday morning. I’ll “do” the market in the hour before the class – that’ll be enough for this year.

I have succeeded in losing – or, at least, mislaying – my diuretic pills. I’ve got the box, and the leaflet which details all those alarming possible side-effects, but no pills. Talk about Freudian. I hope my cleaning woman will be able to find them on Monday. Meanwhile, I’m afraid I don’t feel much better without them.

Thank you for all your kind and helpful suggestions. Dawn, you could be right about protein. I cook fairly industriously, at least once a day, but have slipped even in that department lately. Tamar – always to be counted on for brilliant suggestions – no, I don’t have a way of checking my blood pressure at home, and it’s a very good idea. I'll investigate. Maureen, I will certainly go to the geriatric medicine appt as soon as it is offered, and look forward to it. Perhaps unusually for my age, the only pill I regularly take is one to thin my blood, as a result of that pulmonary embolism three years ago or whenever it was.

And, Kirsten, will Penguin write to us with a short list of our reading for March? Or do we need to take more active steps? I have finished “Jacob’s Room” and it is very interesting indeed. It comes fairly early in Woolf’s career, and is certainly “modernist”. It’s not stream-of-consciousness like “Mrs Dalloway”, but it’s certainly stream-of-something. It segues from place to place and character to character like a skilful movie.

The Six Nations rugby tournament has started. (Sinking of non-rugby-loving hearts.) This first weekend was brilliant. Wales beat France in Paris, and England (distinctly the underdogs) beat Ireland decisively in Dublin. I hope Mrs May is allowing herself to enjoy that result. Both were thrilling matches. Scotland beat Italy here in Edinburgh, somewhat more pedestrian-ly.

Here is Paradox, captivated by the singing of “Flower of Scotland” before our match. An instant before, she had been standing on her hind legs for a better look. Alas, I didn't get that picture.

As you can see, not the weather one might have wished, for Groundhog Day.