The routine of term is beginning to take hold. There was some amazing weather after the Royal Visit — we were perfectly all right up here, but there were fallen trees in Aberdeen and Fittie was up to its knees in sea-foam. I’ve known that happen up the coast, even unto a whole beach looking as if there’d been a custard pie fight, but not in such quantities. I celebrated the end of the first week by catching a cold: I suppose my immune system has had relatively little to do for months, and the free and frank interchange of germs on campus came as a bit of a shock to it. But it’s not a bad one. A couple of nice things happened: our friends in Tromso unexpectedly sent us a beautiful bathmat, and my aconites have come out — terribly late, but they have grown gigantic and impressive and so have their flowers, like purple butterflies. So it’s not all gloom by any means.
The other news of the week is that Miss Kit has been back to the vet. She seems to have a slight problem with one of her back legs — she’s been increasingly incompetent about jumping onto the counter, or up onto my table, and sometimes gets odd twitches in it. Her vet’s not quite sure what to make of it but thinks she may be a bit arthritic. So she’s now getting a mild painkiller — but we also found that due to the other stuff she had to deal with the skin irritation which was making her pull her fur out, sort of HTR for cats, which made her ravenous, her weight had gone up from two and a half to three and a half kilos — which might in itself account for some of her newfound difficulty with high jumps. Anyway she now seems perfectly cheerful, and I find I can sneak the Metacam up on her in her dinner.