We had a visit yesterday from Mr Brennan the Artist, and his offspring, generally referred to as the Huntly Two. They are quite little offsprings, about four and six, I think, but nice with it. They like to be helpful, so we tend to draw up a agenda of things to do — watering the greenhouse and picking rhubarb were on yesterday’s job-sheet. So too was deploying a lovely present from the Real World Consultant, which I had rather forgotten about: two crowns of dangling, light-up plastic stars. With the aid of a lot of green wire, the Huntly Two and Mr Brennan, the stars — each of which hangs independently on a transparent flex up to a foot long, were attached to the beams of the greenhouse above the vine (which seems set, once more, to produce pounds and pounds of grapes) and the stars threaded carefully through the vine leaves. The flexes were routed carefully between the vine and the roof and down the back of the trellis so that they are barely visible: a ceremonial flick of the switch, entrusted to the younger of the Huntly Two, produced a magical effect of gentle yellow stars amind the leaves. It looks quite delightful, and thanks again to the RWC. Then they had their tea, which is always a bit of a battle, though there is always something they will eat of what’s on offer, and settled down quite happily with a video while Mr Brennan and the Professor got on with stuff and we had our own dinner at a more civilised hour. They are quite among the nicest children we know, and Miss Best Friend thinks so too; she waddled about with them all evening, being loved to bits and grunting happily. Even Miss Kit likes them, though understandably, she draws the line at being picked up by a four year old. I admired her technique for inoffensive resistance: she made herself heavy, as cats can do when they choose, and poured through the child’s arms like mercury. While he was here, Mr Brennan contrived to sort out my camera, which had defeated both me and the Northern Gentleman, so on that account also, the visit was a very welcome one.