I wasn’t going to invest much in workout equipment at home. Costs money, takes up space. And besides, I liked cycling to and from work, and Friskis & Svettis group workouts, so medium term I intended to go back to that. What’s the point in buying stuff I’ll only use for a short time. I’ll just buy a kettlebell.

Fine, a single pair of dumbbells as well, then.

But the short term stretches out longer and longer. I find myself enjoying workout videos more than I expected, and they’re doing wonders for my well-being. I can picture continuing like this – working from home most days of the week, doing a lunchtime workout every day. Plus Ingrid has also started working out, so the equipment gets much more use.

Oh well, let’s get a gym mat, then. And we really need some more dumbbells in lighter weights.

There is still a real shortage of gym equipment. Vinyl dumbbells in suitable sizes are sold out in most places. I finally found a place that had what I wanted. A week later I got an email telling me that the things they let me order were not actually in stock after all and could they perhaps tempt me with some completely different things. No thank you.

I nearly ordered dumbbells from Germany but shipping chunks of iron across half a continent sounds like such a waste that I’d rather do without. After much creative googling I finally found another Swedish shop that had what I wanted.

I ordered my stuff, and waited. Two weeks later I still had nothing. I sent an email, then called and left a message, then called again. The company seems to be totally ignoring me. And now I saw their Trustpilot reviews and they seem to be a bunch of scammers.

It’s not the loss of a few hundred kronor that bothers me most, but the endless waste of time. A month after I decided to buy dumbbells I still don’t have any.

The dumbbells in the photo are our oldest ones. Unlike the newer vinyl-coated ones, the paint on these flakes off and the iron underneath rusts. But if this order also doesn’t go through, I’ll give up on the vinyl and just buy whatever I can get.

I knit a scarf out of sock yarn because the yarn felt so soft and I was afraid it would wear out in no time if I actually used it according to the label.

But I kept wondering. Maybe I could use it for a pair of really, really soft and cosy socks as well?

I used some of the leftovers to darn the heels of another pair of socks. Those patches are all fuzz and lint now. The yarn is too loosely spun so it doesn’t even wear through. Rather it slowly unravels and falls apart.

I no longer wonder. This would be a terrible yarn for socks.

Minecraft is perhaps not the most exciting game, but it’s one that both Ingrid and Adrian keep returning to. In reality it’s a social platform more than a game. It’s not the gameplay that attracts them. The game is just something to do while they talk to their friends. Like in previous generations people would meet over a game of bridge, or pool. But corona-friendly.

The back is definitely mending fast. I didn’t dare do a proper workout today but went for a walk instead. After half an hour I was actually moving pretty vigorously. I’m very relieved.

I put my back out yesterday – by pulling the handbrake in the car, of all things. I felt quite ridiculous.

The driveway is on an incline, so the handbrake needs to be engaged all the way, or the car starts to roll back when I lift my foot off the brake pedal. I guess I pulled too hard while my back was twisted the wrong way. There was a “click” and sharp pain and that was that.

Immediately after it happened, I could barely get out of the car. All of yesterday I only walked with very small and careful steps, and took great care when standing up or sitting down or doing anything else really. And absolutely no bending forward in the waist unless I supported my weight on something other than my legs.

Today was better. I still sense very strongly that I need to be careful with my movements, though, and preferably not move my back too much at all. So I spent most of the day sitting in the sofa in a carefully balanced position. It was a singularly monotonous day.

I imagine this is what reality is like for frail old ladies. Must move cautiously, can’t pick up things from the floor without risking hurt. Asking your grandchildren to do things for you because you can’t. I will do my darnedest to end up a strong old lady and not a frail one. I abhor this feeling.

Adrian and Eric made swirl buns of various kinds: cinnamon, poppy seed, chocolate and orange peel. I like buns and all kinds of other cakes but the desire to eat them rarely grows strong enough to make me bake. I don’t even know why. It’s not that I dislike baking, or find it difficult. I just… don’t do it. How nice it is to have family that does.

While I’m sitting at my desk I wear layers, woollen cardigans, shawls. When I’m working out in the exact same room, five steps from the desk, I am sweating through just a single skimpy layer. I had to buy shorter tights because full-length ones were too hot. It is amazing how much waste heat the body can generate from even moderate exercise.

Another thing that is near-permanently stationed next to my desk is my stack of shawls. This time of the year, especially in the morning, in this old and badly insulated house of ours, my “office” can be chilly.

I’m also rather picky about my body temperature. I don’t like being even slightly too warm, no more than I like being slightly too cold. I’m often buttoning and unbuttoning my cardigans, adding a shawl, opening up the shawl, etc. Other people don’t seem to be so bothered, I think – I don’t see others (at work or at home) fiddling so much with their clothes. Or perhaps their bodies are better at regulating their temperatures.

The flexibility that a shawl offers is unequalled by other garments. It’s so easy to shift the ends a little bit wider to let more body heat out, or wrap it more tightly around my shoulders to keep me warmer.

The white one I knitted myself in a lovely silk and merino yarn in about 2002 or 2003. I remember working on it in our first apartment in London. The orange one I bought somewhere, probably London as well. The black and white and pink one has a design of large rose or peonies or something. I got as a Christmas gift from my mum.

The best thing about them is that they’re all so luxuriously soft. I feel positively spoiled when I wear them. The next best thing is that they are so different. Whatever I’m wearing, one of these will look nice together with it.

Women don’t use shawls so much these days, other than perhaps decoratively draping one over a ball gown. But in old photos you often see women wearing a shawl or a wrap as an outer layer, especially in wool-producing countries, ranging from Ireland to Ecuador and Nepal. A coat is more practical, so I can understand why this tradition is dying out. But there is a special cosiness about wrapping myself in a shawl that a cardigan or jacket can’t achieve, no matter how soft the material.

My knitting basket is near-permanently stationed at my desk during working days. Long remote meetings become so much more bearable when I can keep my hands busy.

I wonder what my colleagues think of it. It hasn’t come up in our discussions yet. The knitting is mostly out of view for the camera, but not always. And I’m sure they notice that I’m not looking towards my screen and camera. Then again, it’s not rare for people to have their camera somewhere off to one side, so those folks are never facing the camera, so perhaps my doings don’t look as odd as I imagine.

Outside there’s a thick blanket of snow on the ground and it’s still –10°C, and I’m glad we got a proper winter this year after all. But every day is lighter than the one before, and one of the cyclamens in the kitchen is putting forth buds, and it really makes me think of spring.