The big news, delayed by my inanition yesterday, is that the fourth great-granddaughter has safely reached the Shores of Light: Ruby Jean Isabella K., born Friday afternoon. I’m not quite sure of “Isabella” (one of her mother’s names) and was horrified by “Ruby” although I’m getting used to it. It’s not in the family. They just like it.

There are some sweet pictures in our What’sApp group, but I don’t know how to get them out. Archie will be here tomorrow.

Otherwise there is (as usual) little to report. The first rows of the Spring Shawl borders are long and plain, and I am nearly finished with them. I seem to have amalgamated all the stitches onto one needle, despite the point protectors, but at least I have done it without knitting across the top of the triangle.

Non-knit

Sinking into sleep last night, hearing of Amber Rudd’s resignation, I was actually a bit frightened. “The centre cannot hold…” But today that event has been amalgamated into all that is going on, with various people expressing various opinions, and I feel stouter of heart.

It is interesting, reading “Phineas Redux” as a background. When the 19^th century was in progress, everybody thought (rightly) that the Reform Bill and the repeal of the Corn Acts were of lasting importance. Now, they’re important all right, but they’re history and therefore just slightly boring. In the book, the big issue is the disestablishment of the Church of England, which of course didn’t happen although I think Trollope thought it would.

In 2119, “Brexit” will equally be history, and equally boring.

On another subject, clutching at straws, I google’d the symptoms of pregnancy in cats – and discover that some of them actually have morning sickness, poor beasts. But essentially, there are no symptoms at two weeks, except perhaps for such as might be determined by a scan. At least Paradox isn’t in heat -- a valuable negative symptom, perhaps.