I’m back in the saddle, knitting-wise: somewhere in row 98 of the two Cameron Shawl borders (counting back from 110). I hesitate, most days, to knit in the evening because all my sense is gone by then – not cider, just old age and feebleness. But the current passage is so easy that I may try to knock off a bit more this evening. The ball of yarn is looking seriously depleted.

Annie Modesitt is having a tough time. I struggle to follow her on Facebook (as I do Franklin) now that neither blogs. All seemed to be going well, if slowly, for her, but suddenly she is having chemotherapy again, for leukaemia this time.

Non-knit

The kimchi jars (see yesterday) are still overflowing nicely. They’ll probably be calmer by tomorrow. When I first made kimchi, I used to sit there in the kitchen watching the bubbles move up the side of the glass jars. It’s not a very interesting sight; even a lively fermentation is not all that effervescent.

I fear this batch is slightly too salty – not inedibly so, just a bit more salt than one would wish. Maybe when fermentation has added a vinegary taste it won’t be so noticeable. The kimchi-making process starts with salting the cabbage and leaving it for a couple of hours to soften and produce brine. Then you rinse it. I may have over-salted, or rinsed inadequately, or added too much fish sauce at a later stage. I will be alert to the problem next time.

Large-scale news continues interesting as COVID-19 closes in on us. We had elaborate precautions at Mass this morning (as did Rachel in London) – no shaking of hands for the Sign of Peace, for instance. And – even more interesting – I think I have learned from Rachel that I am only two degrees of separation away from the senior civil servant who has resigned and blamed the Home Secretary for persecuting him. (I’m only two degrees away from Burt Lancaster, come to that -- it’s a fun game to play.)