John has transformed the garden. One minute he is like a garden gnome burrowing away under some foliage,

the next he is like a convict breaking slabs of stone from the front and hauling them through to the back. I am supervising the seeds and have trays dotted around the house, and can’t wait to plant them out. This flat with its little garden is like a fabulous secret in busy Edinburgh; from the outside you would never know what a treasure trove it is. I suppose everyone says that about their home.

We have been taking the air, and on Saturday we walked down the Water of Leith, nearly being knocked out by the scent of wild garlic.

We toured around Inverleith Park and did some idle viewing of the young bucks sporting their muscles and legs in the annual Rugby Sevens competition.

The teams come from all over Scotland and thrash about madly for a few minutes and then swop and thrash someone else. I was secretly relieved to meet up with old friend John Archer who had a much better idea and shepherded us into the beer enclosure.I felt very ladylike sipping my pint of Belhaven Best (shandy) and getting gently tipsy, while also enjoying the company of John’s friend, Major Willie (retired). We were discussing the words of Irish ballads (as you do) and he told me how he wanted to know the words of The Rose of Tralee, so he went into a shop and found a book which also contained 58 other songs and cost a small fortune, so, wily as a fox, he stood for ages memorising his particular song, humming quietly in a corner before tripping out, all the richer for the experience. He then sang me the first 2 lines – all while the rugby lads were being pounded into the mud!

Spring is here, and so are the April showers. I go out muffled in scarf and duffle coat, then end up carrying everything as it gets so warm. Still, it is a pretty time.

I made chilli crab claws the other day. Such a feat and quite a palaver as I had to bash them to bits with a hammer as the nutcrackers were useless.

They tasted divine, just as I remember them in Bugis Street in Singapore 35 years ago. We practically needed a shower after the meal. The meal was a very active experience and John was quite bemused.

Natasha rang yesterday to say she has started up the double bass again. Such fun! She goes horse riding on Thursdays, kung fu another night, and now she has added a little culture to her already busy life. She cycles to work (17 miles) and does all her Rastamouse stuff then cycles home and plays dirges and weird scales on the bass, with big ideas of jamming in a jazz bar! I just remember her at school and having to transport her to church halls at Christmas for the orchestra performances. NOT an easy instrument! I love this picture of her punting in Cambridge with Leo and friends.

 They were in fancy dress (they don’t usually dress like this) and the whole thing looks so surreal.

Gerry is suffering with her back. They now think it is a disc and she is in chronic pain. My heart is sore for her. We must wait results from the MRI scan. Dark days in Dublin. Today John and I head north to Kingussie and then over to the west to Glenelg. I can’t wait.