And another follower! You are especially welcome at this exciting juncture in my life. For, read on...

More news.

James phoned last night and – after we had finished talking about Mimi – proposed to come to Edinburgh himself for the weekend of the wedding, so that I can go. I am even more tearful than I was when I thought I couldn't go. He will welcome the chance to spend time with his father, he said, and isn't much of a party animal anyway. My husband will positively enjoy my absence, under these circumstances. And James's own diabetes means that he doesn't have to have all that explained to him.

So now it's all to be done after all, except for finding clothes for my husband, and I am full of boundless energy and enthusiasm. For the moment, at least. I will write down two parallel lists this morning, one for myself (hair/dress/box for wedding present), one for them (ready meals, beer). And – what knitting to take along? I may not knit at all, but I've got to be prepared. The Pakokku socks are nearly at the second heel. That might not be enough.

It sounds as if Mimi is doing at least as well as can be expected. He can walk – that's a big one. He has been allowed to walk around the kitchen, but still spends most of the time in his cage, because he mustn't jump. He doesn't like it, that sounds good, and is eating well.

Evelyn Waugh in his unfinished autobiography, A Little Learning – which, unaccountably, I cannot find on the shelf this morning – quotes Belloc's quatrain when speaking of his Oxford years.

No one, in our long decline,

So dusty, spiteful and divided

Had quite such splendid friends as mine

Or loved them half as much as I did.

For “friends” read “sons”, and by “sons” understand “sons and daughters”, and that's how I feel this morning.

What a swell party! indeed.

Little to report on the knitting front. I didn't quite finish yesterday's assigned portion of the i-cord edging of the Rams & Yowes blankie. I haven't rounded the third corner. Still, I'm close, and could conceivably finish the whole job tomorrow.

And meanwhile that delicious madelinetosh yarn for Archie's sweater is in a package somewhere in the tender arms of the American or British postal service, making its way towards Drummond Place.