Today

Instead of a nice Sunday walk, I have been to Barts to visit my dad, who is really not very well at all right now. I have also discovered that at some point during his operation on Wednesday the socks he was wearing, which were the pair I knitted him after he complained of cold feet when I visited him last time he was in Barts, were removed and are now lost.

And now I’m on a train home which is due to stop at Wembley Stadium just after the end of a major football match. (ETA - it wasn't too bad in the end; although a frankly alarming number of people got onto the train at Wembley as far as I could see they were all good-humoured and well-behaved, with no shouting, singing or other rowdy behaviour, and enough of them got off again shortly after at Northolt Park or Ruislip that for most of the journey the train was only busy, and not absolutely jam-packed. And I had podcasts and knitting rather than attempting to read on a loud and crowded train.)

To say I’m feeling a bit fragile right now would be, frankly, something of an understatement.