Here’s Sam, self-isolating in Argyllshire. Self-isolation is particularly difficult for sheep:

And here he is with Thomas:

He seems to be aging very well. Perhaps a bit weaker in the legs than he was 12 years ago, but that’s true of many of us. I remember someone – presumably Thomas – asking that day, towards evening, “Can I have your sheep?” I am sure the question had previously been run past his parents.

Not too bad a day. My friend G came and force-marched me around Drummond Place Gardens. It had been quite a while since I had been out. There always seemed to be a delivery to wait in for. Spring has made impressive strides since I was last there. And I feel the better this evening for the effort.

I made good progress with the Virus Scarf, and will resume it soon when I go to watch the Queen. I’ve finished the first plain section, and begun on the striping, which is slow but fun. Each colour has to be located, of course, somewhere in the fistful provided, and the mini-skein wound. And as the contribution of each ends, it has to be re-attached to its label because it will one day be needed again.

I’ve done row 35 of 524. I hope my inability to show you that picture of Paradox resting after a strenuous morning of mousing, won’t prevent the sending across of other pictures. Anyway, I’ll try soon.

Non-knit

I had a stinker of a Freecell the other day. Even leaving it overnight didn’t help. I eventually got it, with more than an hour recorded on the clock. And, as almost always when that happens, I couldn’t think what I had done differently to make it come out. Even while the game was still in progress, when I had reached that stage where there is only tidying-up to be done, I couldn’t think why I had succeeded. Presumably, nevertheless, such struggles make one stronger.