There is little to report. I’ve advanced one broad stripe on the Evendoon sleeve. Better than nothing. Helen is now back from Kirkmichael. She came to see me this morning with a worthwhile clutch of news from the neighbours.  Her husband is still here, and they are all going down to Cheshire tomorrow to see his mother (who is somewhat sprightlier than I am). I need to see Fergus (the youngest brother) to discuss a Calcutta Cup sweater.

 

We walked a bit, but not far, because of watching for a Waitrose delivery. It arrived.

 

Reading: I’m continuing with Robert Galbraith, and finding that it fills me with a kind of gloom. I am looking forward to Book 3 of The Thursday Murder Club. Osman isn’t gloomy. I didn’t expect J.K. Rowling to be. (She is secretly Robert Galbraith.)  Maybe she has been worn down by all the persecution she has suffered for her views on transgenderism. (Is there a better and simpler word for that?) There is also a new book just out by Henry Marsh, a neurosurgeon of some distinction. Medical memoirs are another category I enjoy. This one is called “And Finally”.

 

Wordle: we disapproved of today’s word again. Ketki and I scored five, Alexander and Thomas four, Mark was top of the class with three. I had a nice little run of 3’s and 4’s in the middle of August, but have been less nimble lately. My only complete failure was COYLY on the 2^nd. My winning streak is now the longest it has even been, at 30. My ambition is to get my winning percentage up to the level of my age. The former is currently 86%, the latter 89 years.