Another pleasant but inactive day. I had a good Italian lesson. We talked about politics. Helen came and we got around the garden. Christina and Manaba and wee Hamish came to call. He’s a bonny baby, on the cusp of being able to crawl.

 

Weavinfool asks (comment yesterday) what I mean when I say – as often – that I feel feeble. It’s something like what one feels when recovering from flu, I guess. Everything is a tremendous effort. Moving about is difficult. Much of the day is spent at the kitchen table, doing nothing. That could be regarded as a moral fault rather than a physical one, perhaps. I am trying to focus on hydration. Perhaps I should take a general vitamin pill as well as my daily Vitamin D. I think my diet is more or less OK. Probably too much cider. My heart doesn’t function at a 21-year-old level – something about systole and diastole. Doctors say it’s common at my age.

 

I’m at the stage of the Evandoon ribbing when it seems endless, but in fact it’s moving on nicely. I’m currently winding a new skein. Still haven’t looked for the dps which will be needed any moment now.

 

I’m enjoying Franklin’s vlogs, although not as much as I would enjoy having the Panopticon back. I watched one today about Knitting to Fit, and was disappointed to discovered that the key to it is measuring and swatching. I thought he would reveal a magic secret.

 

I spent some of today Christmas shopping on-line. Depressing. I didn’t actually buy anything. The only things I saw that attracted were mugs, and one of my theories of life is that everybody already has as many mugs as they could ever want.

I loved your plan for a simple Chrustmas, Sarah. I wish I had a tree in a pot. We always used to do it that way, but the pots with their trees were in Kirkmichael. Eventually each became too big, and was planted out and replaced. One year, not too long ago, we were all set to go, turkey and replacement tree ordered, when something happened, I can’t remember what, The weather turned nasty, but that wouldn’t have stopped us. We bought a plastic tree at Poundland of which we became very fond. And a replacement turkey here: it was like the parable of the wise virgins and the foolish virgins, in reverse. I went along to our (excellent) local butcher that morning, and there were all the wise virgins queuing outside the shop in the snow for their pre-ordered turkeys, and I waltzed in past them all and chose one at the counter.