I’m all set, as I trust we all are, for a good wallow in Royal Wedding tomorrow. The weather seems set fair, too. My mother stayed away from Rachel and Ed’s wedding, and it was painful. The circumstances were far different, but I have felt some sympathy for Meghan these last few days. At least she’s got her mother.

It would be prudent to get Archie’s socks out for tomorrow’s knitting. The Calcutta Cup vest moves slowly forward, and I mustn’t run any risk of laying it aside for something easier. Little and often will eventually see it done. But tomorrow is a special day.

There is nothing to report on the fermenting front. I’m ready to start the next batch of kimchi, and may even do it tomorrow. The wedding will be over relatively early, perhaps in order to leave time for the FA Cup which is of no interest to me.

We are going to Strathardle next week, all three of us, with my niece C. It is brave of her to take me under her wing in my dilapidated state. I will try to explain to Paradox that this is her one chance at Love. As I remember the sequence of events, poor Perdita made spaying inevitable by frequent and uncomfortable (for her and for us) goings into heat, but so far that has not happened to Paradox (whose birthday is in August). It would be fun to have a box of kittens, and with what they fetch on Gumtree these days, I could retire.

I am wondering what would happen if I tried to ferment Good King Henry. Some may remember that it is the ideal vegetable: a hardy perennial – the one survivor of my once-beloved vegetable plot. It is billed as a substitute for spinach. Its only defect is that it tastes terrible. But what if…

I’ll keep you posted.