I took another run at the clothes hanging in the boxroom yesterday and picked out a substantial pile of coats and sweaters that are in perfect condition but now much too big for me. I’ll have to keep them until the fall, however; Goodwill won’t want them until there’s frost in the forecast. Another pile is stashed in the car until Monday, when the dry cleaners will return to duty after their Easter break.

With any luck, by fall I will also be ready to let go of some more of Edmund’s clothes, and start on his array of hats — so far I have rehomed only one, an Army-issue fur number that the BIL accepted at a particularly chilly point in February. If only I knew more men with large heads!

Review of a fashion article posted on Facebook tells me that my 25-year-old tweed jacket is out of fashion. Again. It makes me look old, apparently. How much do I care? Not enough to ditch the tweed jacket, which is just the thing for a cold Easter morning with snow on the ground and a forecast high of 4 Celsius.

I’m roasting a leg of lamb this afternoon to share with a friend from pool class, who lived in France for 25 years and likes it as much as I do. She’s bringing wine and, I hope, a hearty appetite.