No further news from Strachur.
The hair-do was a success. At least I now look sane.
Panic continues. I am grateful for your advice. But Cat, the sensible approach doesn't work – I'm not frightened of anything in particular, just frightened. Well, perhaps of my increasing inability to cope with my husband's increasing frailty. But nothing can be done about that – indeed, the longer we can continue to slide down the familiar grooves, the happier for both.
I got a few things done yesterday, not including silver-polishing. But whatever is accomplished, two or three more chores spring up in replacement. I have a good deal of sympathy for Hercules' difficulties with the Hydra.
Yesterday I re-read the brilliant “found poem” Alexander constructed from this blog for my 80th birthday and printed on a tea towel. The link is to the blog itself, when I copied the poem out for you. We have had the tea towel framed; it hangs in dark corner with some old samplers. And it clearly shows that the notes of anxiety and fear go back a long way. This time of year is always difficult, with the encroaching darkness. I am drinking soothing herbal teas.
Will I feel better if I find my keys in Strathardle next week? Or will I just cling to them hysterically?
Valerie, thank you for the report on The Knowledgeable Knitter. I've ordered it.
Knitting went well yesterday – I did a scallop for the edging of the Unst Bridal Shawl before returning to Archie's sweater. It is getting on nicely – madelinetosh produces a beautiful, smooth fabric. I am about to start the ribbing for the neck placket (top-down, remember). I don't think there's any hope of reaching an easy bit before we head off for the wedding – less than a week now. Greek Helen will be here tomorrow. But once the placket is established and the interval between buttonholes determined, it may prove easy enough.