Here we are.

My husband was transferred yesterday to the (excellent) Royal Victoria annex to the Western Infirmary, practically on our doorstep, at least compared to the Royal Infirmary where he has been for the last fortnight. The charge nurse phoned to tell me of the transfer just as I was setting out on my long daily bus journey.

I found him there at the end of the afternoon, in fairly good spirits. He spent a lot of time in the Royal Vic last year, much of it waiting for a “care package”. I thought he might be depressed to find himself back there. They plan pretty vigorous physiotherapy, I gather. That’s good.

Meanwhile, I am going to Strathardle today. There had been a tentative plan afoot for me to go last week, with 24-hour care laid on here and Archie on hand. As things have turned out, that won’t be necessary, except for Archie who will be in charge of the cat. I’ll miss her terribly but everyone says I mustn’t take her. I’m going with our niece. She’ll pick me up at the end of the morning; we’ll visit my husband for a while, and then head north. Alexander will visit tomorrow. We’ll be back on Thursday.

I’m anxious about this, hard to say why, apart from missing the cat. Archie says he’s never been alone in charge of a house before.

I’ll hope to write again on Friday. There’s absolutely no knitting news, anyway. I have even moved over to cookery lessons on Craftsy, and can heartily recommend Raghavan Iyer on Indian cookery. Two separate courses, and he’s very good. I even asked a question, as I have never done in a knitting lesson. And got a good and helpful answer.

I’ll take the Vampires along to Perthshire, and should make good progress. I’m not strong enough these days for too much gardening.