The downstairs lavatory is finished. It’s looking good.

I am sorry for my silence. Sheer sluggishness.

I am feeling sad and anxious about the king’s cancer diagnosis, as if he were a member of the family. How quaint of Mr Biden to think that a phone call from himself is what the king needs, whereas other world leaders contented themselves with good wishes and prayers. Biden who didn’t come to the Coronation and who prefers Ireland anyway.

I’ve done some knitting. The objective must be to finish the new ball next week — 10 days rather than a fortnight this time. My granddaughter Rachel — James’ and Cathy’s daughter — just sent me a picture of herself in a well-fitting sleeveless pullover — four days’ knitting, she says. She’s the one who now works at the Wallace Collection. She’s coming to Edinburgh soon.

I must get back to my laptop and send you some pictures. Work in the Downstairs Lavatory made access to that room difficult — plus, it’s cold in there. 

Wordle: my two starters yielded four browns today — the dreaded anagram! However, I solved it briskly and typed in my solution — a three at last! But no! It was wrong! I now had one green, anyway.  I solved it again. Four greens, but still wrong. I got it, on line five. The class dunce. The other British-based players had threes and fours. Father and son in DC, Roger and Theo, both scored four.