I had the computer on this morning, and left it open. When I came back just now I found that somebody – and it could only be Perdita – had changed the screen resolution, so that everything was awkwardly stretched out. I’ve dealt with this before, and finally succeeded in doing so again, but it’s tiresome. Getting rid of the Greek alphabet is easier.

 

Today I’m making kimchi. All is done except the final rinsing of the cabbage, when it has been salted enough, and the final amalgamation. That should give me enough to last for much of the winter, like a good Korean housewife.

 

Helen’s husband David is here for a week, home from Thessaloniki where he works. We won’t see him again until Christmas. He joined us for the trudge around the garden this morning.

 

British-based readers will know of the efficient naval landing last night on an oil tanker which was being taken over by stowaways. The rescuers descended by rope from helicopters.

 

The best funeral oration I’ve ever heard – fortunately, not all that many – was for a naval friend of ours, the speaker a naval friend of his. It was good because it recalled Duncan’s faults which we all loved as much as his virtues. The two of them had once (at least) rehearsed just such an operation. It is particularly nerve-wracking, the speaker told us, because in the middle of the night you don’t know what – if anything – will be under your feet when you get to the bottom: “And Duncan talked, all the way down.”

 

The Evandoon (or whatever it’s called) has progressed, although not, so far, beyond the lovely red stripe mentioned yesterday. The rounds are getting longer at the rate of eight stitches every other round. Eventually the sleeve stitches will be left behind and things will speed up. I tidied up a bit this morning and put Machu Picchu and the Striped Shetland away in project bags. The sitting room has project bags hanging from every door knob.