Sunday, March 31, 2019


Thanks, everybody, starting with Wilma. I’ve ordered the KnitPro blocking combs (two sets, following your advice, Kay). Report to follow. The single-coloured set is still available, slightly cheaper, but I went for the bright ones.

And knitting went – or, is going – well. The trouble with my new system is the considerable temptation, when I sit down, to pick up the baby sweater and not the Dathan hap. Today, at least, I resisted. I am past the half-way point with the bind-off. There’s about a foot to go, of weaving-in. That’s enough, on both fronts, to allow baby knitting for this evening.

I did that much this morning, watching Andrew Marr. His show is one of the perks of not going to Mass. “This is what it feels like, living through history,” he said. Yes, indeed. It’s not just Brexit, of course, but the splintering of the Conservative party and the prospect of a Marxist prime minister to follow.

There’s another post on the Kate Davies blog – Tom, this time. Again, of course, no news, but his tone suggests, nothing-to-worry-about. He is writing about the West Highland Way. I can’t find it on my shelf, which is maddening. It’s certainly here somewhere. I showed it to Alexander, who then bought one for himself, as he lives not all that far from the Way and is a dedicated walker.

Reading

There is nothing to report but a few more pages of Daniel Deronda. Saturday is devoted to the weekend FT.

Shandy, I’m glad you’re reading “The Claverings”, and agree about the delight of those horse-racing metaphors. “Doom” seems strong. It’ll be all right. Have you read “The Three Clerks”? We took on that one because of an article in the New Yorker. The final chapter is extraordinary (the whole thing is good). I won’t say more for fear of spoiling.

2 comments:

  1. Your Trollope suggestions sounds much better than my 'real' book club which chose something by Julian Barnes; appears to be all about a relationship between a 19 yr old boy and a 40something woman. I can't work up the enthusiasm to start it yet. I like the look of The Western Wind by Samantha Harvey. I've downloaded a sample. All I have to do is find the brain power to try it.
    Today -Sunday - bliss; I have indulged in a bit of Freecell. Otherwise, this close to the end of term, I'm only capable of knitting a mitred square garter stitch blanket. No idea for whom, or how big... I'm just mindlessly knitting until the wool runs out. In random stripes, inspired by your hap... Oh those dangly ends!

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  2. All was not right for the Trevelyans in "He knew He Was Right," but at least we had all the other plotlines and that extraordinary chapter where Trollope addresses the reader directly talking of the conventions of novel writing, and, indeed, of Shakespeare's comedies, of finding a match for everyone. Here, though, the male lead has got himself into an impossible situation, and the tone is not comedic. Cold-hearted and self-seeking characters are in the ascendant, with no relief from sub-plots. I guess you could call the tone satirical, but it is very dark at times. I'm relieved to hear that all turns out well, though how Harry is affording all that fine dining is unexplained.

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