Another fine day. Helen has gone off to Kirkmichael, and the word is that the pipes are OK. We always drain the water, of course, but the first turn-on of the year is always a bit exciting, nevertheless. An event I am glad to miss. Now I can look forward to being taken there myself, with my cats. I can’t take them on cruises.

 

I was feeling battered, as usual, this morning after my Italian lesson. I didn’t want to walk with Helen, but promised that I would go out alone once I had recovered. When I did, and was handing myself in gingerly fashion down the steps, I met an old friend, not seen for many months, and invited him to walk around the garden with me. It was the sort of thing which inclines one to believe in God. 2524 steps – that seems a bit more than I deserve.

 

I made some progress with the left-hand sleeve of the Polliwog. I looked again at the colour schemes on the Jamieson & Smith website – go to the opening screen, click on blog, scroll down. I think maybe the way to approach wee Hamish’s Calcutta Cup vest is via an all-over pattern. That would simplify the calculations. I must start thumbing through books.

 

I had to confess to my tutor this morning that I have been reading Carofiglio instead of Dante or Pirandello. I will have to pull up a sock or two for next week. She said he often appears as a pundit on Italian television.

 

Lots of rugby today, and again I am having trouble turning the television on. I watched much of Scotland-Italy on my iPad (we seemed to be winning handily), then plugged it in to beef itself up for the evening. So I am missing England-Ireland – I don’t know where my affections would be engaged there. France will play Wales this evening, and by then the iPad should be feeling stronger. “Allez les bleus!” is the rule of thumb, as long as they’re not actually playing us.

 

I’m going to talk to my sister by Zoom tomorrow. I’ll be interested to hear what she thinks about Biden’s stumbles on those airplane steps.