Still no knitting. I am determined to get back into the sitting room tonight, even if I just sit there in front of a blank screen with empty hands and a cat on my lap. I was there for a while this morning. Perdita sat on my lap and actually purred. She never purrs.

There is an interesting article in the Financial Times today about scams. My one of yesterday was there – not as Sky but as Amazon Prime. But it’s the same sort of thing – something that a Silly Old Fool, at home with a land line in the afternoon, could be bamboozled into thinking he belonged to even if he didn’t.

My bank card failed in the butcher’s this morning – I take that to mean that the bank has cancelled it, as instructed; although the new one hasn’t arrived yet. And when it does, I’ll still have to wait for the new PIN. I had another card to use for my meat, fortunately.

The nastiest scam of all – does this happen in the US? – is when they hack an accountant or an estate agent, and then send you an email telling you to re-direct your forthcoming payment – the down payment on a house, perhaps – to a different bank account. I haven’t had that one yet.

I had a happy time, during my idle day, with the Christmas present lists in the newspapers. It is the most delicious of modern conveniences to be able to turn from the printed page to the website of an interesting-sounding shop without even moving from one’s chair. I found one or two possible presents – and an even better Boring Book for Helen’s husband David than the one I have already bought him. That’s a shame.