Today is reasonably sunny and the garden is so lovely.   We have roses, sweet peas strawberries, Mrs. Siddons fragrant carnations and some flowering lilies.   We are a lucky old pair of codgers.   We await the tomatoes who are slow in doing their stuff, because, apparently they are too cold at night.    I told Gerald to take the hair-dryer out to the little tent by  the side of the garage and heat the air up, close the flap and quickly to throw a blanket over the whole thing so that the night air does not get at them, but he has refused to do this.

Just this afternoon he has reported that the right-hand compost bin to which he has with great effort transferred the stuff from the left-hand compost is FULL of WORMS.   We are slightly ecstatic about this, as when we came to this garden nearly four years ago, we were devastated to find no worm, no beetles, no beasties of any kind.   We think they were all done away with as being unsightly and a nuisance by the previous owners of the house.   Well, that was not what we wanted so we went to the local mill, or distillery on the Black Isle and BOUGHT some worms which in four years seems to be thriving and improving the soil of Lochardil, no end.

The news is not good.       ------   crashing over the Moray Firth.   Ed Balls and George attacking each other in parliament about who is the liar, and who is responsible for the behaviour  of the bankers om 2007 and so on.   They say it was a Bull Market and City Boys were behaving in ever more unbelievably wild ways.   Your bonus (up to, maybe over a million if your face fitted)  would be guaranteed no matter what  you did.   I think I'll ask to be born again as an Eton Scholar