Another grey day. This is getting ridiculous.

   Several visitors this morning, including Helen. No knitting. Limpness this afternoon with the same result.

   I am sorry, Elaine and Anonymous (comment yesterday) that I spoiled “Traitor’s Purse” for you by revealing that Campion and Amanda wind up going off to get married. Don’t give up: there’s lots more in the book than that. I’ll make it worse: Campion, at the beginning, is in a hospital and can’t remember even who he is — no spoiler there; it’s right at the beginning. He has the sense that he has something important to do; that’s all.

At some point early on, the clouds part enough that he recognises her and knows her name. “Amanda”, he says. It is my favourite love scene in all of Eng Lit. That’s all there is to it: Amanda.

    But that still leaves the book, and its brilliant McGuffin. I’ve probably said here too often that Allingham was criticised for it  when the book was published, during the war, as being too far-fetched. And then afterwards it turned out that the Germans had the same idea. I don’t know why they failed.

Wordle: tough sgain.  I scored four. My starters gave me two v’s and a c, all brown. I struggled forcquite a while, and finally put a Jean-word in line three. That yielded another brown vowel, and useful information about where letters couldn’t go. But I was lucky to get it in four. There were other possibilities, Wordle-fashion. But mercifully I hit it.

   A spread of results elsewhere.  A brilliant two for Alexander. Three for Thomas. Four for Ketki.  Five for Rachel. Six for Mark — who got mired in the “other possibilities” I mentioned above. The DC contingent, Roger and Theo, both scored five.