Again, not much to say. 47 scallops done – I should get around that third corner today. You're right about possible changes of sheep, Weavinfool – so I took your advice and ordered the rest of the yarn for the Unst Shawl from Jamieson & Smith, not without a bit of a struggle. There was a slot where I could enter the current Lot Number, in the hopes that they still have it.
I wish you'd do some more blogging.
I'm still having trouble with pop-up ads. For the moment, I'm just suffering them. Jamieson & Smith was dreadful, but you may be sure that the government web site was entirely ad-free, when I was filing our income tax the other day. So it's not entirely my fault. Worst is when I click on something and get something entirely different – that keeps happening.
Hellie wrote to thank me yesterday for my contribution to her Paris marathon effort (link yesterday). She said that she and lovely Matt are buying a flat. I boldly suggested that they get married, and promised to finish the shawl this year. She didn't seem to take offence.
Dep't of King Midas and his Asses' Ears – next Wednesday is the big day. And I learned last night from a phone call that one of us has a second interview that day for a distinctly desirable job. Wholly separate issue, same day. I had better say no more just now.
I won't be here tomorrow. My dr's appt is early, 8:20. I've put the cleaner off until Saturday. I am worried about parking – normally when we go to the GP, all I have to do is drop my husband at the door and then devote myself to finding somewhere to park. That won't work tomorrow. Here in Drummond Place, the traffic wardens don't start duty until 8:30 – which means that the paying places are full, until then, of the overnight freeloaders. Maybe they start earlier in the West End. Maybe I should take a taxi.
If the Good Lord had meant us to worry, He'd have given us things to worry about. (An immortal line from Fawlty Towers)
A Serious Man
I don't remember a grocery store scene, do I? Please remind, Mary Lou. Every moment counted in that film, so I should remember.
Does anyone remember the scene in an otherwise, I believe, utterly forgettable thriller-type thing where Donald Sutherland goes to a late-night grocer but can only find a kind of cat food which his cat doesn't like, so when he gets home he shuts the cat out of the kitchen and transfers the contents of the tin to an empty tin of the kind the cat does like? I don't think we even see the scene where the cat rejects it.
The new Coen Bros film is about to open here in GB. I think perhaps we have seen them all, and I wonder if there is any other director of whom that could be said. I would welcome advice from GB readers about how to get it to view at home. What is “Netflix”? We used to subscribe to LoveFilm but couldn't keep up with them.