I got some stuff done yesterday, other stuff not, as is the way. I am gradually reducing my ambitions for the Great Party: not having my hair done, not buying new shoes. (No one is going to look under the table, and at least my toes aren’t peeping through the leather. No joke – it happens.)

I’ve looked out some clean clothes, both for the GP and for Monday’s dinner-and-theatre expedition to Pitlochry, eagerly anticipated. We will be swept off in an eight-seater, not quite a mini-bus, and join Rachel and Ed there insh’Allah, they having just driven up from London. James will stay at home with his father. I must think of something for them to eat.

And I need to give a bit of thought to the speech I may get to make at the GP. The outlines are in place.

Today’s event is the hospital appt which has brought us back to Edinburgh. Respiratory, this time. I think the idea is to see whether my husband can recover a bit of oomph by being taught how to breathe.

So that may advance the current sock somewhat. Not much got done in Strathardle – it’s something to do with the lack of television and the presence of so many pleasant people to talk to. I finished the first Pakokku sock while we were there, and cast on the second.

I don’t suffer from Second Sock Syndrome, but my fingers were more than usually reluctant to get back to grips with ribbing, and it went slowly. However, by now – two evenings with television – all is going well. I am halfway from ribbing to heel (70 rounds – longish sock). They are for my sister, who will be here next week along with everyone else in the world. (It wouldn’t entirely surprise me if Barack and Michelle turned up.)

I am slightly concerned about whether the socks might be a bit too long. They’re top-down, so it will be easy enough to shorten them. And my sister will stay on a day or two after the GP – until the actual birthday, in fact – so there will be time to do it. If I can get this one finished in time.

I loved all your comments about Prince George’s shawl. Peggy, that line of Maggie Smith’s is perfect.

The Margaret Stove shawl may turn up at the Christening. It would have been inappropriate for the steps-of-the-maternity-ward scene. I’m sure they won’t use store-boughten for the Christening, and we may hope that the photographs will be sufficiently close-up to give us a good idea of the pattern.

Here’s a less controversial piece of recent knitting news. The Shetland Isles, and the Western ones too, I think, are not too keen about the idea of being part of an independent Scotland. Mr Salmond was up there last week trying to be ingratiating.

That’s not going to fool anyone.

PS

I learn from Zite this morning that there's a one-woman knitting play, "The Sweater Curse", on at the Fringe. Elaine Liner is the name (from Dallas, no less, with which I have connections). It's at Sweet/Grassmarket International 4 (whatever that means) from today until the 26th. We'll be back. Perhaps I'll get there.