In the course of yesterday evening, the Professor burst in with the announcement that ‘we have a neo-Georgian emergency on our hands.’ What this translated into was that one urn and two bases which we have had on order from Haddonstone since last December had finally turned up, and a nice bloke called Calum was on the point of storming up the drive with them. The plinths, enormously heavy, came in three parts, like Gaul, and it took all four of us to get the bits into place. This was in process when the Apparitional Gamekeeper’s dad appeared and announced that he had finished the Bridge! This great project has been in process for some time; it is the Bridge to Twisby Island, and is in a sort of Chinese Chippendale mode. He has been making it for us as a lovely present. The base went down yesterday — the professor and I meanwhile running madly to and fro to see what it looked like from various angles and viewpoints. Tonight it will acquire its posts and handrails. It is all going to look lovely, and when the bridge has happened, then we can take the bits of the second plinth across it to be erected on the island. It struck us, as all this went on and the mist came down and the midges gnawed at us and the kitten climbed about in the elder which hangs out over the water, most rashly (which is probably how she fell in last time) and the dogs pottered to and fro self-importantly getting covered in mud, that the whole thing somehow suggested Castle Falling-Down in the County Kildare. Mist, moisture, crumbling grandeur, and a demesne enlivened by the spooky glimmer of marble-white garden features.