I’ve had a good day’s rugby – Scotland won against Italy in Rome. Poor Italy hasn’t won against anybody for five or six years now, and this is getting ridiculous. They were introduced to the tournament twenty years ago because the television people wanted an even number of teams. And France beat Wales in Cardiff – that was a thriller.

But not much knitting, because Perdita sat on my lap again. When she was young, we were inseparable. It was my husband’s idea: “It’s time we had another cat”. He was in hospital when he said that, and when I fetched her home. She would have bonded to him had there been time, but there wasn’t. He couldn't make allowance for what a disagreeable cat she was (and is). “She’s your cat”, he said, with displeasure.

And so she was, until I got this wretched kitten to keep her company. There are days, now, when I scarcely see Perdita. And so I am glad to have her on my lap, and to think that the old bond is not altogether broken. But what about my knitting?

I’m moving along through the last quarter of the edging of the second side of the Cameron shawl. But slowly. Andrew Marr should move me forward tomorrow, unless Perdita likes him too.