I had another “fishing”-type scam phone call today. At least, I think I did. Either that or my bank card has indeed been compromised. I believe I told you about the first one. This one was a bit better crafted, at least in that the voices were fairly plausible for a Scottish bank. But like the first, it was aimed at me, although they didn’t in fact have more information than could be gleaned from this blog and the phone book.

I logged on while they waited, and then logged off and went back to the telephone and told them that everything was all right. They wanted me to log on again and let them talk me through re-setting my password. I declined. The bank’s website had strengthened my suspicions by saying that their phone lines were down. And this time, I was completely sceptical from the beginning, because the whole thing so much resembled the last time.

But I feel, as before, assailed and shaken.

Greek Helen took me to the May Morris show of embroidery at the Dovecot Studios this morning. (May was William’s daughter.) I enjoyed it, but was taken aback at how difficult I found it. It was a particularly difficult subject, of course – low light and objects requiring close inspection. I haven’t been “out” for a while, except to Waitrose and Mass.  I’m weak.

Knitting is edging forward, but I’m still where I was – that is, working on the Dathan Hap.

I’ve watched a bit more of The Crown. I’m up through the moon-landing episode with Prince Philip’s mid-life crisis, and as before, am completely unconvinced. I remember that visit of the first moon-landers to London. Someone asked Armstrong one of those idiotic questions – what was it like to look into the sky and see the earth? Something like that. And his answer, far better-worded than I can remember, was that it was no odder than looking out of the window and seeing London.