Cooler, but at least dry. C. came, with an old friend who went on a Majestic Line cruise last summer (on our recommendation?) and had it cut short by covid. We hobbled around the garden. My hip is very sore. I encountered a Lenten reflection yesterday: if a stranger were to take charge of your life, what is the first thing he would do? I think in my case, it might be to consult a doctor about my hip, so perhaps I should do that.

 

Knitting has progressed well. There are 10 or 12 rounds to go, plus ribbing, on the first legwarmer, and since the last four rounds before the ribbing are plain vanilla stripes, no pattern, I am confident of finishing tomorrow. Reasonably confident. I have looked out an old Calcutta Cup scheme, but need to find the one I used for wee Hamish’s vest (above) since this will be identical. We have decided to go for ’21 on the ribwarmers and knit something entirely different for ’22. Scotland had better lose in ’23. I can’t go on like this.

 

I did some looking-out connected with Machu Picchu, too: my notes about how to do an EPS, notably. I need to find those four issues of Knitter’s in which Meg explains and expands the pattern.

 

I lost the eBay auction. As feared and half- expected, a huge bid trumped me in the final seconds.

 

It showed the destination of one of our walks in Kirkmichael, two or three miles, I might guess, up Glen Derby, vaguely in the direction of Pitlochry. One walks through some new-built houses, and then trees, and finally open country with nothing for miles until you get to the ruins of a small house – “the bothy”, the destination of the walk. No other habitation within sight, no “infrastructure”. The postcard was from the first decade of the 20^th century, and showed the house intact, with a bit of garden out in front enclosed by a picket fence. I have a collection of Kirkmichael postcards. I bid a lot, but somebody else bid more.

Wordle

I am glad to have made a convert of you, Janet. It is fun, but also gentle. There is much extra fun to be derived from the fact that there is only one per day, and it is the same all over the world.

This morning my two starter words produced all five letters, all in the form of brown tiles. All I had to do was solve the anagram, and I had my Wordle in three. Alas, I am no good at anagrams. I struggled for half an hour and finally gave up. I entered a Jean-word, despite the resolution expressed here yesterday: it used four of my brown tiles, and a letter already eliminated. That yielded two green tiles, and even I was able to slot in the remaining three letters. 

Thomas Miles used five today, however. At least I beat him.