Everybody is back in position. Helen emailed pictures from Athens, some of which appear below. And I delivered Archie to Merchiston myself.

I've reached round 110 of the 136 needed for the border of the Unst Bridal Shawl. A round and a half is about the best I can hope for as a day's stint, now that there are so many stitches – and still increasing by eight every other round. Indeed, in one sense, I am in no hurry to finish, this is such pleasure. Like Penelope at her loom, although I wouldn't go so far as to unpick it at night, And I don't see where there is going to be space to block it, in all this clutter.

Thank you for your kindly messages yesterday welcoming me back. Mary Lou, I wish I could have some of the walking onions you are discarding. I have tried and failed with them. Here is a picture Helen took of me amongst the vegetables – seeing to the garlic, judging from my position:

The man we have commissioned to look after the garden – he's doing brilliantly – was asked to put in some potatoes. They're coming up in the foreground of that picture, and provide an air of stability and order to what would otherwise be dereliction.

Here are pictures Helen took of our resident deer in the paddock. I feel it is a comment on the lack of mental scope in an animal, when English doesn't distinguish between singular and plural – deer, sheep, fish:

Archie will be back here in ten days or so, when his GCSE exams are over. I am debating with myself whether to ask him to go to Strathardle with us. He is strong and cheerful, but he's not a woman – would his support be enough? And would he want to come? My husband is notoriously bad-tempered, and comes down particularly hard on Archie, who bears it with amazing grace. But it must be hard on him.

On the other hand, it is a wonderful time of year to be there. The cuckoo is singing. The bats are flying (we love our bats). The light is still increasing.

I am grateful, too, for your advice on wheelchairs and, Ellen, your suggestion of a portable walker. The main purpose of any such device would be to make patent our right to be treated as Disabled and be helped on and off trains. You may well be right, Ellen, that a walker would be more acceptable to my husband than a wheelchair. I am inclined to leave the whole problem aside until Helen gets back in July. The wedding isn't until November 1. We need to know Destination Station and train times. I need to email the wedding venue -- it's one of those country houses -- to ask about meals for my husband in our room. His right hand is arthritic, and he is embarrassed about eating in public.

But I'm pretty sure that this will work out better than leaving him behind with a resident nurse.

For something completely different – here is a picture, taken recently and sent to me yesterday, of the Socklady and Kristie. I don't know the details of their meeting yet. Such conjunctures always startle me – I think of you as characters in separate novels, and this is as if I should have been sent a picture of Elizabeth Bennett with Julia Flyte.