Great excitement today. Somebody came to the door during the carer’s break. She wasn’t even here. He was, fortunately, patient — and I, miraculously, got to the door. He was bringing a new, magic mattress which promises to be more comfortable. (Nights are tough.)
Sunshine (quite a bit) and showers today. I’m told it’s still cold. Helen came and we ordered some pelargoniums for the front doorstep. I’d like “Lord Bute” from Sarah Raven — because we knew him, and because it looks like an interesting flower — but went instead for cheaper and more abundant from Thompson and Morgan.
Otherwise not much. Some knitting, and I hope to do more this evening. I’ve gone on with Allingham’s biography, which is interesting. Maybe I’ll finish it and read the three more (besides “Sweet Danger”) pre-war books before the club starts. At the moment, poor Margery is sinking under the weight of life, writing rubbish for the women’s mags to keep the household in coal and cabbages, in between her real books with Campion in them. Her husband was pretty well useless. And yet her best thrillers were still to come.
I don’t think either Christie or Sayers, at the height of their careers, had a husband to support.
The introduction to one of my reads, quite likely this biography, says that Campion had buck teeth. Rubbish. He had a famously vacant expression, misleading to friend and foe. But not buck teeth.
Wordle: I found it enormously hard this morning. My starters gave me two greens, in the first and last positions, and two browns, a v. and a c. Easy, one might think, but I struggled and could think of nothing. I finally gave up and put in Jean-words, taking care at least that the browns were in new, possible positions. It took two goes of that, but I got it right in line five.
Rachel and Mark had threes. Four for Alexander. Ketki scraped home with six — some comfort for me. Theo was another six. He had four lines, 2 through 5, in which the pattern was ???, grn, ???, ???, grn. No browns at all. Then he got it. Nothing from Roger yet