Tuesday 11th March - more unwinding required

 Thought for the day; it's a good thing we don't have a kitten, or a playful cat.

 At first sight that's not a very profound or spiritual thought.

Our last cat died, at a very ripe old age of around 19 on Christmas Eve 2022. Her sister died just a few months before. We were very sad to lose them, even though they had become a huge tie, and needing a lot of attention, like feeding four times a day to make sure they ate enough, and so on. 

However, it meant that we could go away for a short holiday. That was a big silver lining. Of course we still had to make all sorts of arrangements for my father while we were away...

Now that my father is no longer with us, we can go away with carefree hearts; indeed I'm no longer worrying about him all day every day, and checking to see if he's ok, and planning outings, looking out for things to entertain him... another big silver lining.

So I was reflecting on the good and the sad about loss, while pulling out my

Knitting 

Yes, I have frogged that heel. (Frogging is a term for ripping back rows and rows of knitting, because frogs say 'rippit, rippit, rippit')

When I looked at it this morning, well, it looked a mess. A dog's dinner. A network of holes.

Breathing gently, and channeling every microgram of inner calm that I could muster, I took it back beyond the start of the heel and down to a strange bit which I had been trying to convince myself wouldn't matter.

I then spent a good chunk of the morning picking up the 60 little stitches (60 stitches? Why are there only 59 on the needles? Never mind, I'll just make an extra one. There. That was easy. So now why are there 61 on the needles? Sigh)

I went back as far as the red marker, and have knitted most of the loose wriggly yarn back into the sock.

And the heel? I'm opting for an afterthought heel, which is why there's a strange bright pink row near the needles. I'll knit on, all the way to the cuff, and come back to the heel later. The blue wool has been knitted and frogged so many times the we (the yarn and I) are both too frayed and frazzled to try another heel turn now!

Accounts

As if the morning hadn't been sufficiently intense, I spent an hour and a half on my father’s accounts after lunch. I took the precaution of making myself a pot of tea to keep me company before I started.

Music

Once again I've chosen music which slowly unties the knots in my brain.

I first remember hearing the Italian Concerto by Bach played by George Malcolm on the harpsichord when I was about 7 or 8. I was fascinated by the harpsichord and would have loved to learn it...

This recording of the slow movement by Alfred Brendel is beautiful.