Caturday

I know: I pinched that title from Larry the Cat (in Downing Street) but the two cats and Po the puppy have been a dominant feature of my photo-taking the visit, just as the boys were when they were small. The cat in the photo is Oreo, who emerged this evening to entertain us while we were watching telly; by this time Po the puppy had retreated to his bed, worn out.

In order to watch the rugby in the afternoon - on the TV, despite being within earshot of Murrayfield stadium - we joined Neil and Mary and Po in a walk up Costorphine Hill in the morning. We mislaid Po only once …. By the time we got home, rugby fans were streaming past the house on their way to the stadium and manoeuvring large cars into impossibly small parking spaces. The air throbbed with music and excitement.

We didn’t win, of course - we all know that now - but wasn’t it exciting? And, grotesquely, we switched from the thrills of a sporting battle to the grimness of a real battle, for Ukraine. These brave, beautiful, ordinary people - and the children- I can’t write sensibly about anything on my phone.

But think of being tired, and wanting your bed, when your bedroom is lying in pieces in the street in Kiev. That.