A busy day. Sunshine and showers again.

   Maureen from Fargo came to see me this morning, on her way home after a successful knitting retreat on Shetland.  We have a history going back decades, and I hope there will be more episodes to come. She was wearing stunning Fair Isle of (of course) her own making. Franklin posted a resume of his knitting life recently — including a picture of Maureen and her husband.

   In the afternoon some lingots were delivered (at last) for my salad factory. I have planted chilli seeds. They’re awfully small, as I should have realised they would be after dealing with them on a daily basis in the kitchen. I’ll keep you posted.

   As for reading, I persevered with “The Mind Readers”. I still don’t think it’s very good. I’ll have to think of something else to read before KD’s club launches at the beginning of May.

   This time, for the first time, there is to be a KAL associated with the club, based somehow on “Hide My Eyes” (Allingham’s last seriously good thriller). Today we got the colours for the kits KD is selling, although she encourages us to dip into stash. I’m seriously tempted, although it would be a silly extravagance, now that I knit so little and so slowly. 

   KD promises to give us plenty of time between clues. The only other KAL I ever joined in on was one of Stephen West’s. That was exhausting. I reached the final clue more or less in time, but never finished the shawl. I’ll keep you posted on that idea, too.

  Wordle: another failure for me. And Roger: some consolation.Rachel scored a brilliant three. Theo and Thomas were the fours. Ketki six, Alexander and Mark five. 

 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. 

   . 

 

Here I am back in the computer room. I failed to turn the laptop off properly last time, with the happy result that it was remarkably quicker to boot. All well here. I have spent much of the day wondering whether I should apply for the diocesan pilgrimage to Lourdes. Would they be up for the amount of care I need?

C. came this morning. She is all for it. Helen is in Greece with her husband this week. I have run it past her by email. 

   I’ve been reading Allingham’s “Beloved Old Age” edited and augmented by Julia Jones' whom we will soon get to know as a contributor to Kate Davies’ new club. I’m afraid it’s boring. Old age is tough – no doubt about that. Both authors dance around the question; Do I invite them home, or do my best to make them happy and comfortable elsewhere? I have moved on to The Mind Readers, Allingham’s last thriller. Campion’s last outing. And I am not letting that awful man read it to me.

Wordle: Roger, Theo, Alexander, Ketki and I all failed today. Ending a streak of 49, in my case. It doesn’t look all that difficult a word, looking at it in the list. Thomas scraped home with six. Mark and Rachel were today’s luminaries, with fours.

 

  

 Brighter, warmer — although not what you’d call warm. A good day’s knitting. Another day might even finish that collar. I like the new carer. 

  And for reading, I went on with Allingham. I bought not one but two audio books to accompany knitting, and regret it. “Tiger in the Smoke” and “The China Governess”. They may even be read by the same man. Why didn’t I check?

   The trouble is, he’s proud of his accents. Inspector Luke speaks pure, unreconstructed London. Campion and his family speak posh. What I would enjoy would be if both spoke Standard English with just a trace of the originals. I’m sure Luke didn’t sound like that. 

   His rendition of women’s voices is also irritating. 

   Speaking of peevishness: the leading editorial in the Times today is headlined “National Malady”. The BBC in the early morning tells us what the newspapers think. Twice, the announcer pronounced it “ma-LAH-dy”. I thought maybe it was a joke I didn’t understand which would become clear when I read the actual newspaper over breakfast. Not so.   

   Wordle: pretty harmonious today. Mark and Thomas scored three; four for all the rest of us.

  My parish newsletter, which arrives every week, is advertising for cripples today, to be taken to Lourdes in July. I must check the dates and think seriously about it.

 I got into the Catalogue Room this afternoon, where my laptop is. I wrote a blog entry for you. But where is it?  I’ll find it tomorrow and post it on. It’s been a tough day. Helen is in Thessaloniki.

 A straightforward day. A successful bath — that’s an event these days. Helen came in the morning and re-potted some more of my cactusses. (Goodness, is that how you spell it?) Archie came, and we scraped together a lunch for him. The weather, yet again, sunshine and shower and shadow. 

   The rest of the day has been spent reading Margery Allingham’s biography. I’m nearing the end. She’s desperately trying to keep up with the Income Tax in those austere years after the war. Evelyn Waugh had the same problem. Genius (and success) provided no escape.

   Anna (comment yesterday): I didn’t know/had completely forgotten that Dorothy Sayers had a husband. He seems to have appeared on the scene (Wikipedia) after the birth of her son, and was not his father. Allingham continues to have difficulties with hers. He earned his own living after the war, but did his living in London apart from his wife. The income tax situation was much complicated by the fact that they were married.

   Wordle: I think we’re on the same day. The members of my little group who live in DC always to be in sync. You’re right, Fiona, that when I refer to v. and c. I mean “vowel” and “consonant.” But your remark, Heather, is interesting and I wouldn’t entirely discount it.

   Again today I was entirely baffled after my starters, and resorted to a carefully-chosen Jean-word. It wasn’t much help, but some, and at least I managed a fully-qualified word for line four, and the right answer for five.

   Ketki was today’s solitary star with her three. Theo, Rachel and Alexander were the fours.Thomas and Mark joined me on five. Roger needed six. It wasn’t easy.

   

  

 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