And then you get a day like Saturday, when the wind drops and the clouds part and the sea is so flat and calm it shimmers like taffy cooling in the tin. It was one of those days when the sky is as blue as a child’s painting, and clouds of delicate white butterflies, disappointed in love and tired of life, try to end it all on your car windscreen as you drive past.
I was in a reckless mood myself: I drove with the car window open. Well, it was 13C—we may not see temperatures as high as these again, so it’s best to make the most of it.
We went up to the Castle of Mey’s teashop for coffee and cakes. I had a piece of chocolate cake so dense it had its own centre of gravity, like an imploding star, and started to attract cutlery from across the table; what I had taken at first to be icing turned out on closer inspection to be an event horizon. Afterwards we did our best to impersonate a bus tour, since it’s embarrassing when the staff keep asking if you’re enjoying your trip to Scotland and you have to tell them you only live 20 miles away…
I’ve been making good progress on the gansey while we’ve been offline, reaching the halfway point on the gussets and dividing front and back. I’ve made these gussets slightly smaller than I usually do, 15 stitches wide instead of my usual 19-21, just to see how it works out. The body will be 7 diamonds long, shoulder to welt, so as you can see I’m not far off finishing the back. Meanwhile I’m still having a lot of fun knitting the pattern, which is almost foolproof (even for me), and which is rapidly becoming one of my favourites—certainly one I’d recommend to a beginner.
Many thanks for all the suggestions for eye drops to treat my dry eye condition. I still have to talk to a pharmacist, but in the meantime I must admit I rather enjoy spending ten minutes every evening with a warm flannel pressed against my closed eyelids, a sensation not unlike being licked by a very affectionate bison.
I spend the downtime listening to an audiobook. In another life I might be meditating, or praying; in this one I’m listening to Proust. In some ways I find it resembles a traditional religious service: I have no idea what the words mean, but they sound nice.
Finally, here’s Kathleen in her Edinburgh garden wearing the cream Hebridean cardigan I knit recently. Of course, in any other country the beginning of June would hardly be a suitable time of year to wear a gansey—but then, we’ve been through all this before…