Here we are where we thought we were on Saturday: James and Kirsty are coming tomorrow. Nervous tension mounts. We're going to lunch with my husband's sister tomorrow, in south Edinburgh, which should help in a way to take my mind off waiting for the doorbell to ring. (Their plane lands at 4:30, giving us plenty of time to get home.) But I'm not allowed to take knitting when we go there. It would be rude, my husband says.

Look what I got in the mail yesterday! at last.

The scarf book is fully as good as it's cracked up to be. I haven't really tackled socks yet. Estonia is a disappointment. Curiously, they don't seem to go in for sweaters in Estonia -- it all seems to be socks and mittens, not all that much fancier than Sanquhar patterns. I think sweaters were invented in the early 19th century for seafaring men to wear -- I must have a look at Rutt today to see what he says on that subject. Estonia has plenty of coastline. Maybe they don't like fish.

The section on folk culture at the beginning trembles on the edge of self-parody. "The one who does not come to the bonfire on St. John's Day, his barley will be full of thistles, and his oats will be full of grasses." No kidding.

Mary Hughes-Thompson has kindly sent me her Koigu swirly scarf pattern (which I have also ordered and paid for, from the woman who now runs the business). It is the familiar technique, with a few extra plain rows thrown in, and incorporating Judith's idea of picking up the cast-on stitches and repeating the scarf in the opposite direction. I've printed it out and I may well start it today, as being easier to deal with for one in a state of nerves. The veil progresses, but it's not easy.

My husband got so cross yesterday about my unsatisfactory answers about who was going to sleep where on Friday and Saturday nights, that I had to ring up Rachel and conduct an entirely fictitious conversation on the subject.

Even the cricket -- the Test Match in Pakistan -- has become exciting, which is almost a contradiction in terms.