I’m back in the kitchen, poking with one finger. The day has been off-and-on, shadow and shade, yet again. Evening sun at the moment: that’s welcome. But no warmth. The long-range forecast offers no hope  much before  mid-May. If then.

   On the other hand, I had a delivery of cat-litter from Amazon today, and the carer didn’t spot it on the doorstep when she got back from her break. I looked at Amazon’s your-package-has-been-delivered, and there was a most glorious photograph of aubretia in bloom in my tripod. It’s not very good aubretia, colour-wise, but it’s having a wonderful time out there and I would never have known but for Amazon.

   Knitting has progressed, but I still haven’t finished that second collar.

   I’ve been reading Allingham’s “Mind Readers” — her last book. I must have read at least part of it before. It’s not terribly good, but it’s nice to hear the authentic voice one last time. Entry for KD’s club is closed, but we still have to wait a fortnight or so for any action.

   I’ve decided against Lourdes. I need too much intimate care.

   Wordle: even Queer Joe failed yesterday. Today we all picked up the load and started to trudge forward again.Two for Theo and Rachel. Three for Alexander and Mark and Ketki.  Four for me. Six for poor Thomas who got stuck with the middle letter missing. Silence, as often, from Roger. 

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