Twenty-Six Straight Hours of Leisure

Much to my surprise, I did not feel at all sleepy last night. My room was too warm and I was excited from the bit of packing that I had done. So I edited my profile on my new blog at Xanga, knitted, wrote in my diary, and read news as well as the end of the introduction to Penguin's edition of Giorgio Vasari's Lives of the Artists. Most illuminating. I think it's interesting how hard it is to honestly remember or even discover what one's likes and dislikes are; for instance, I'm sure I have a favourite film but I haven't been able to think of one. Later I watched some television, particularly a show about travelling to Italy; the House of the Vestal Virgins and Florence (which I saw in November 2003) were both given due attention.

The knitting was exciting because I had only learned the plain stitch before yesterday. Yesterday I plunged giddily into the realm of purling, then tried to do the knotted stitch properly. Approximately fifteen minutes ago my first two rows of what I believe to be successful knot-stitches were finished. I took my instructions from Beeton's Book of Needlework. It was fortunate that the sock patterns in the book didn't appeal to me, because I already have an impressive mound of socks accumulating in my room as new ones are purchased and old ones are mended (some by me!).

Yesterday evening my sister and I watched parts of Amadeus. I particularly like the scene where Antonio Salieri has composed a march in honour of the presentation of Mozart at the court of the Emperor. The part where the emperor painstakingly plays his way through the composition while trying to ignore the irritating promptings of Salieri is an excellent satire of music lessons in general, I think. I also like the figure of the Emperor very much because he is so understated and realistic and quietly humorous. Then I like, too, the fact that this film is about more than the costumes and relentless frivolity; normally I find period films highly off-putting.

Anyway, I already became very tired at around eleven, and the only thing that prevents me from being so at present is the carbonated caffeinated drink (whose brand shall remain nameless) that I just consumed.