C. came to see me, but again failed to get me out. I’m all right, just droopy. Both Christina and Manaba are ill with Covid – not desperately ill, but far from symptomless. They have no other backup but C., who doesn’t dare to pitch in and risk getting it herself.

 

Thank you for your Wordle comments. We over here often grumble that Wordle words are too American, although at the moment I can’t think of an example. I have no memory of MIDGEs from my American youth (nor does Ketki) and I wondered how the word would strike American ears. Perhaps significantly, all the Scottish residents in my little Wordle group got it in four yesterday, but Mark, an Englishman who lives in Birmingham, needed five. Today was one of those Wordle specials where those who had the last four letters of the word as green tiles had a wide choice of letters to start it off with. I needed five, Alexander four, and we were lucky. The others approached from a different direction; they had the initial letter in hand for the final struggle. Mark, blast him, got it in two.

 

I knit heroically on. Today was a day when my determination to knit three rounds at least really paid off. I so easily might not have done any, and now I am within the last ten rounds, counting down to the finish line. I might do another round or two this evening, but I doubt it.

 

I have been reading PD James’ Adam Dalgleish books backwards from the most recent. Some of them I have read in the past, I think, but by no means all. She’s good. And it is wonderful to watch the 21^st century scrolling backwards. Remember typewriters?