Life is frot with excitement.

 Helen came; we walked. Grey but warm, today. The Home Secretary has resigned.

 I knit valiantly on. Here’s where I am with the right-hand wing. That’s all purled:

 

The final short-row section, all that remains to be done, is a little bit easier because of not having to contend with a second colour being carried up the edge. Tomorrow is this week’s Big Reveal, of course. The last one for which I will feel I’m still part of the action. By next Thursday I will be doing well if I’ve finished Clue Two. Indeed, it’s unlikely. Quinn is being baptised next week and, as you see, I will soon have to take some time to wind the next skein of the main colour. There is to be a gathering at Kirkmichael to plant a ceremonial tree next week, too. I’m inclined to think that I’ll be as well to skip it. It’s getting cold. Kirkmichael is very cold.

 

But the excitement came from a phone call from Daughter-Rachel. Another great-grandchild (grandchild, for her) is expected in April by Joe and Becca. Their wedding, on the Isle of Wight in 2019, was my last major expedition away from Edinburgh, and will almost certainly remain so. Currently, my great-grandchildren (and Rachel’s grandchildren) consist of seven little girls in London. This one will almost certainly be the last chance of a boy to carry Ed’s surname into another generation. (Rachel and Ed have an unmarried daughter, who will one day, it is to be hoped, have children of her own; but that’s no use, surname-wise.)

 

I’ll have a record somewhere of what I knit for Becca and Joe’s daughter – they have only one, so far. I’ll report back. I’d be glad of suggestions for what to knit this time.

 

Wordle: I failed, my third failure in October. There were none in September, which was part of my 59-day Maximum Streak. Mark and Theo scored three today; everybody else got four. Nothing from Granddaughter-Rachel.