Monday morning.

There will be little to report on the knitting front, while this sock thing lasts. I am approaching the second heel of Ketki’s KF socks. Cathy in Beijing has been added to the list, which now numbers 10. The Fishwife asks mischievously whether if I knit each of them seven pairs, it would use up my sock-yarn stash. I wonder. Maybe I’ll count.

The gansey has been blocked. I fear it’s slightly too large – whose fault is that? – and comfort myself with the thought that that’s a good deal better than being slightly too small. Specifically, it’s a couple of inches longer than the target length. Blocking modified things a bit.

Non-knit

I’ve added the website for Helen’s mosaics to the list over there on the right. She says it’s not finished yet.

I’ve booked myself in to have lunch with a friend and neighbour in Kirkmichael tomorrow, on a bring-my-own-sandwich basis. It’ll save opening and closing the house, restoring and draining the water, for so few hours. I am aching to get started on the garden, but Duncan’s is not a funeral to turn up at with dirty fingernails, and afterwards I will be wearied by emotion and facing the drive home.

James rang up from Beijing the other day and I heard my husband say to him, of Duncan, that he was a true Christian soldier. My husband does not, as a general rule, go in for that sort of language.