Paradox seems well, and has consumed at least some of the pills I have ground up for her today. She didn’t sleep with me last night, though, as is her normal practice.

 

Not much knitting (why not?), but some. I somehow thought that knitting garter stitch by means of all these agonizing purl rounds exempted me from some of life’s other problems, and as a result I find that I have a round of purl bumps on the right side, where I most recently switched colours. Lucy Neatby has a Craftsy class on how knitting works. I suspect I ought to run through it again.

 

Helen was here this morning. We have booked ourselves a tour of a nursing home near here. Edinburgh seems full of posh nursing homes – they weren’t here eight or nine years ago when we were wondering if my husband should go to one. (He was bed-blocking at the Western Infirmary near here. They have a whole purpose-built block for such patients. I couldn’t cope at home until we had a “care package” in place. Eventually we got one, and he spent his last months here, and died here. He didn’t fancy going into a nursing home so we didn’t pursue the idea.) This one – that Helen and I are going to visit – is very slightly cheaper than the place where I was for a fortnight last summer, and sounds comparable. Its nearness to Drummond Place is an advantage.

American holidays are creeping in here, wherever there is money to be made. Mother's Day and Halloween are big business now. Both were quiet, unobtrusive, native holidays once. For many years, however, St Patrick confined himself to Ireland and the USofA. St Andrew stays at home in Scotland (neeps and haggis), and I have even seen a Welshman wearing a leek. But St Patrick is making progress, I am afraid. Something to do with the Good Friday Agreement.

Will Biden really visit Ireland next month, and stay away from the Coronation?

 

Wordle: A spread of results again today.  My starters gave me two vowels, one green, one brown. I scored five, after two Jean-words, and regard today’s answer as something of a toughie. Roger was the star – his first line was a green and two browns, and he lept from there to the answer. Impossible! Ketki had five like me. The threes were Thomas and Mark. Fours elsewhere.