I’m struggling to write this on the iPad in the kitchen — the overhead light has gone out in the catalogue room where my laptop lives. I had composed a few simple paragraphs there by the light of the computer, but they vanished when I tried to edit and extend them here.

I got out this morning, with C. We got to the garden. 2023 is well underway over there. Snowdrops are blooming, and I saw a gentleman pigeon following a lady pigeon with a gleam in his eye. Here follows a picture of some snowdrops, but that will have to wait until I get back to the laptop. I hadn’t been out for a walk for some weeks. The effort flattened me.

I finished that hat, too. Tomorrow I will deal with the ends and decide what to do about blocking and photograph it for you. And then get back to Fergus’s sweater. The hat fits on my own head, rather snugly. My head is on the large side, as heads go.

And Prince Harry’s book is here, it’s long. It’s not entirely without interest, even though all the plums have already been pulled out, He represents himself as a desperately unhappy adolescent, because of the death of his mother. Was he happy before? He lets Dodi off very lightly; not so Camilla. Although the grown-up author must know, even if the 12-year-old boy didn’t, that Dodi was the last in a considerable sequence of lovers.

I’ll read on, and continue to report. I can’t guarantee to finish.

Wordle: I thot it was tough again. I was pleased to get away with five. Mark needed six. Big Rachel and Ketki joined me with five. Fours all round otherwise, except that today’s star, Alexander, got it in three. Impossible, I would have thot.