Live from Strathardle

Here we are, wi-fi'd to the hilt. But I don't intend to attempt a daily bulletin from the depths of rusticity.

James's daughter Rachel has brought her knitting, and now her brother Alistair wants to learn. Helen and her family are coming back today -- mercifully, James has erected a huge tent on the west lawn for overflow children -- and so we will have Mungo knitting again. I'll try to get a picture of all three. I continue forward with my Malabrigo vest.

The weather is pleasant, but distinctly cool. Will my beans, runner and French, ripen in time to be entered in the Collection of Four Vegetables class at the Games a fortnight from today? I water them assiduously, but can do nothing about warmth.