Busy busy busy. Mainly with work -- looong shifts doing the boss's job -- and dog-walking. The dog's in bad odour at the moment, having seriously monstered a neighbour's two cats. I had previously thought there was just the one cat, they're both black and white and fluffy. I patted one once and it was so terribly thin I was concerned for its welfare. But on taking the trembling survivor home after Friday night's attack I discovered that not only does it have a thyroid condition, it's 19 years old. Nineteen. That's 133 in dog years. The other one is 12. No wonder Bertie can get them bailed up -- it's like Sebastian Coe chasing the Queen Mother.

I went to the Traquair Fair yesterday, to meet up with Richard and his family who are up from England on holiday. It's the most laid-back event I've ever been to -- hippy heaven, with tipis, vegeburgers, folk music, alternative healing tents and at least four aromatherapy stalls. I realise now that I have the word DEADLINE running through me like a stick of letter rock, with hurry up! in smaller type.

It was lovely -- it's a beautiful setting, an ancient house surrounded by hills and forests, and there was lots going on -- but heavy showers of rain spoiled it somewhat. It was great seeing Richard again, and I also bumped into other people I hadn't seen for ages, so all in all it was fun. I bought some essential oils (Rose Maroc and Clary Sage) and a colourful little bag for my CD walkman thing. No dogs allowed, so Bertie had to stay home.

For reasons far too complicated to go into here, last Wednesday was a washout and I didn't get to take my computer in to the shop. I've been working all the hours since then, so I'll probably get it in tomorrow or Tuesday. It'll maybe take them three days to reinstall Windows, if that's the problem, or replace the modem.

Must get on with my work now.