Jupitus visiting

In spite of wars and tourism and pictures by satellite, the world is just the same size it ever was. It is awesome to think how much of it I will never see.

I tidy drip lines and dig potatoes. Some asparagus fronds, mistaken, lie yellowing in a pile of weeds. Leviathan marrows skulk ponderously under wilting leaves. More apples wait, espaliered against the garden wall.

I make Dauphinoise; Claire does a grape and cucumber salad, as well as a Black Forest cake. Megan is retrieved from Carluke by Hamish, and makes a goat cheese and pistachio salad.

Blob and Sharon have never been here before - they're always working when we have parties. The satnav gets them to the bottom of the track and a short phone call gets them to the door.

I pour wine while Megan fries fish. We eat, drink, talk. They're about to start a house building project, so conversation covers windows, insulation, mechanical heat recovery.

In the grey afternoon we walk the policies: the office, packing shed, warehouse. Angus' hut, Seb's bothy, the barn, the pond, Nick's yurt. The rain holds off, but in places the mud attempts to suck us down. As we return, a car pulls up, inviting us to a social evening at Netherurd Hall next Saturday - a first in over 20 years.

A cup of tea and then they're off, whisking Megan back to Carluke for her return to Glasgow. Claire and I work our way through the final bottle of white and Hamish provides "Gold", an engaging movie "inspired by true events."