Even before travel plans were revised and revised because of worrying about Meg, we always knew we’d have to be here this evening, for the Composer’s wing-ding and fish-fry (which is how Ed referred to his Tate retrospective, in this case, a university reception). It was a very nice do indeed. Meanwhile, developments are busy developing, and in the next few days, we must rewrite opera ideas into something we can actually pitch with, which is a way of saying things seem to be moving disconcertingly fast. Miss Kit is recovering her nervous tone. While no one would deny that I am her particular person, she was clearly very glad to have the Professor back last night. She must have had a sense that everyone was disappearing: having given him a careful whiffle over to make sure it was him she settled between us and slept like the dead. There’s still an underlying nervousness: we obviously had to leave her for some hours to go to Aberdeen and she went and hid in the attic again, though she came straight out to greet us when we got in so things aren’t too bad.