I’ve had a happy 24 hours at Cramond, everything progressing as planned. The only downer is that there is no conversation at all over meals. They all look fairly compos mentis over there at the Top Table but they sit in silence. There are four of us at “my” table, two of each sex. The other woman seems pleasant and I would like to talk to her, but it seems bad-mannered to natter on while the men sit in gloomy silence. One seems to prefer silence. The other often makes brief remarks but I can’t understand them. The woman tells him to tuck his napkin in at the neck for maximum protection and he doesn’t like that. 

I have been re-reading my blog account of last year’s sojourn at Cramond. How comparatively active I sound! Sweaters flying from the needles! The account of that summer goes on in similar fashion. When did I sag? 

C. went to Drummond Place before her visit here this morning, and has brought me my knitting. But I haven’t resumed it. 

Wimbledon should set us talking, if anything could. Except I fear I might prefer watching on my iPad to the huge televisions on offer around every corner here. I am on the second floor this time (third floor, American). I must go downstairs soon and see if I can push my walker around the garden. I am doing pretty well at movement considering that I have been pinned to my bed for a fortnight, but so far have been pushed to meals in a wheelchair. There are plenty of chairs and sofas in the corridors. I could set off mid-morning and pause when I had to. 

I’m reading industriously. Last Year reminds me to try Antonia Fraser on Mary Q. of S. I never did that.I never finished her mother’s book on the Duke of Wellington, either.

Wordle: we were remarkably consistent with fours today, except that Ketki needed five. Nothing of note happened yesterday. Nothing from America so far today.