It was the most exciting rugby match I have ever seen in my life. Not just a few breathless moments at the end – although it had them, all right – but ding-dong exciting from kick-off to final whistle. I haven't been out for the papers yet, and have completely forgotten the score. I can tell you that it was high, and that Scotland won by three points.

My husband was better yesterday, complaining (a healthy symptom) and eating well. We saw a dr who said that his bloods show that he is responding to the antibiotics. There are problems ahead – I don't think he has been out of bed yet; muscles, already feeble, will weaken fast. The catheter is back.

Young Mr and Mrs Kiernan – Matt and Hellie – are coming to see us this morning. They were at a wedding in Peebles yesterday. It is dreadful to think of all those people (not least Matt & Hellie themselves) being kept away from their television sets by mere merry-making. Rachel says that there was a good moment at the Kiernan wedding when the news spread around the teepee that Japan had beaten South Africa.

Knitting

There were moments during the rugby (not many) when I was able to manage simple st st, and in the evening I curled up with Downton. I think I'm about half-way from underarm to shoulder, at the back of the sleeveless vest.

I am trying to make a nice chained edge for myself by slipping the first stitch of every row. Purlwise with yarn in front, I thought. It works fine at the beginning of purl rows, not so on the other side. This is absolutely elementary stuff. What could be wrong with me? I did some googling later – the last stitch of the preceding row must be knit. That's the answer. I'll do that henceforth, and also try to have a good look at what is actually happening to that stitch.

The new VK turned up yesterday. I think the cover is the ugliest VK sweater (let alone cover) I've seen for a long time. On the other hand, I am totally enamoured of No. 3, Debbie Newton's oversized cabled sweater. Who could wear it? I certainly lack the Dame-Edith-Sitwell panache which would be required to walk around the Second New Town in such a thing. Greek Helen, maybe, once she moves back to Edinburgh? Thomas Ogden's bride Lucy?

The yarn is a New Zealand mixture of merino and possum, said to be deliciously soft. It is available in England, at a price which makes even my extravagant eyes water. I'll try to keep an eye on the progress of the pattern on Ravelry.

Non-knit

Nigella's new book also turned up yesterday, by far the best of this season's crop of light-eating. (Jamie, Diana Henry, and others.) I must make myself a few of her not-for-my-husband recipes while the course of antibiotics lasts. The chilli is a tempting one. I think we may have some bourbon (which is required) in the cupboard, although it's mostly scotch in there.

The carers had brought much of the house into an unusual state of semi-cleanth last week, so when the young Polish woman who cleans for me (a dear friend, by now) came on Friday we spent much of the time clearing out kitchen cupboards, a most satisfactory task. Gosia has a sharp eye for sell-by dates – it can take me ages to find them. So we got on briskly. I hope we can proceed this week.

If we could throw away enough stuff I might be able to organise the kitchen to the point where I would have room for the cast iron slow cooker Nigella recommends. It, too, is eye-watering-ly expensive but at least would be in no danger of being added to stash.