Another summer’s day, slightly uncomfortably so – although nothing to what you’re suffering in the USofA. I got a couple of things done – an Italian essay polished, typed, and dispatched to Rome; a business email forwarded to Helen’s husband David. He’s currently here, for an extended break, but has to begin with some tedious quarantining. I won't get to see him for a while.

 

But I didn’t go for a walk. It was a blissful omission, but I mustn’t let things slide. No knitting either. And I have still to read a canto of Dante before tomorrow’s lesson, so there’s unlikely to be any this evening.

 

I’ve at least had a knitting thot. I could put wee Hamish’s Calcutta Cup vest on some waste yarn (plenty of that around) and see how it fits him so far, when we meet on Sunday. I’m aiming for something big enough that he will be able to wear it on Calcutta Cup Day ’22. He’s a hefty lad.

 

I’ve finished Ginzburg’s “Lessico Familiare”, a fairly famous book, which today’s essay was about, and have embarked on “Il Colibri” – a brand new book, translated as “The Hummingbird” and awarded substantial and favourable reviews in both the Financial Times and the Sunday Times last weekend. I am finding it fascinating. Sandro Veronese.

 

Comments

 

Yes, indeed, Mary Lou: what are “green orators”? I second Gretchen’s query, and would have asked it on my own. I thought for a happy period that I had discovered a Whole New Vegetable, but I suspect it’s just a spell checker having its way with “green tomatoes”.