I'm arranging the next shop rota and keep finding reasons not to hand the final check to the younger volunteer who has offered. She remembers the deliveries, turns up, and asks sensible questions. My objections are becoming rather detailed for a woman who claims she wants a successor. I suppose I like knowing exactly where I am needed. The post office stopped needing me all at once, however much work there still was to be done. The shop is not the same thing. I've sent her the draft and asked her to find the gaps herself. I shall try not to ring with my own list before she has had a chance to open it.

A westerly this morning, enough to make the soft ground more effort than it looked. My hip began complaining halfway along the machair, so I came back by the firmer track instead of insisting on my usual loop. The collie was perfectly content with this revision, despite being the one supposedly set in his ways. At the shop I left the heavier crate for someone else and did the smaller boxes. I dislike standing there directing when I could once have lifted the lot, but there was plenty left to do with both feet on the floor. By evening I wanted another short walk. That seemed preferable to proving a point in the morning and spending the rest of the day in a chair.

The wee one waved from the car before the ferry left, then became interested in something on the back seat and forgot to keep waving. I was glad there wasn't a scene, and a little disappointed not to be missed more immediately. An unreasonable mixture, but there it was. Himself asked if I wanted tea when we got home, and I said I had baking to put away first. It was already put away. The house sounded different without the small footsteps, though they had only been here a few days. I rang my sister about something for the shop and stayed on to tell her about the waving. She understood without making it a terrible business.