It has been a day like many another, but I feel unusually flattened. Better than some, indeed, because when I got up as usual at about 6:30 and came along the passage to the kitchen on my way to feed the cats, I saw the beginnings of light at the kitchen window. 

 

Helen came. I did my exercises. It turns out that the letters yesterday from HMRC weren’t quite as bad as I thought, in that I have already paid a lot of it. But why don’t they know that? Income Tax isn’t the issue this time, but Capital Gains, which I have to pay because I have given Helen the 1/3^rd share I used to own in the Kirkmichael house. She would like to live there when David retires. You wouldn’t have thought that that constituted a capital gain, but it does. If I live long enough, she can rejoice when I’m dead because it won’t be part of my estate. But if I die too soon, they’ll come down on her again.

 

I finished the centre square of the hap I’m knitting, as hoped, and watched Gudrun’s Craftsy lesson again on what comes next – picking up stitches around the edges and doing a few plain colour but slightly fancy rounds before embarking on the Old Shale pattern.

 

I’ve had a lovely picture of Ketki and Alexander in Indian clothes for the wedding, but I can’t figure out how to get it out of my telephone to show it to you. They both look wonderful.

 

Wordle: Another day of threes and fours, evenly divided among six of us. I was a four. The exception is Thomas – not in India with his parents – who needed six.