A quiet day. My Tuesday bath, which always feels wonderful but precludes walking. I pressed the vest under a damp (clean) tea towel, to its somewhat improvement. C. will be here early tomorrow to take it to her grandson, wee Hamish. Here it is:

 

And we are promised pictures on Saturday, Calcutta Cup Day, of the wearer wearing.

 

That left me with the problem of what to do. I resurrected the Machu Picchu, remembering from December that no matter how much I knit it never gets any bigger. It is being transformed into a bottom-up EPS, and I have nearly, or entirely, reached the sleeve-holes. It’s a lovely Carol Sunday yarn, Nirvana, 90% merino and the rest cashmere. It’s like knitting one of my cats.

 

But I must tear myself away from it and decide on what to do for that baby. I know that one of her sisters had a polliwog. My notes, otherwise, are not much use. I must decide tomorrow.

 

Non-knit

 

Kimchi: thank you for your description of the process, Sarah. Fortunately, or otherwise, the first recipe I used had me cut the cabbage up into largish pieces, salt it, and then massage the salt in. I’ve gone on doing that. But the traditional way, as you say, and the way prescribed by most recipes, is to leave the cabbage leaves attached at the base and salt them one by one; likewise, later on, do the same with the paste. I am satisfied with my results, and don’t see the advantage of doing it the other way. It sounds fussy. But I’d like to sit down with a real expert and discuss the pros and cons.

 

I had an email from Amazon this afternoon saying that my emergency gochugaru chilli powder had been delivered, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. An hour later a neighbour delivered it, having found it on her doorstep. It’s just as well I wasn’t desperate for it, after all.

 

Weavinfool: the last years of my husband’s life were full-time demanding. I really don’t think I was particularly organised – just lurching from one necessity to the next, giving thought where necessary as to how to fit everything in to a day. Life is more relaxed now, and for all my grumbling, I appreciate it. Sliding into bed between sheets Daniela has washed and ironed, knowing that there is no one except myself (and my cats) to be attended to before morning: no baby, no husband. It is, every evening, a moment of pure pleasure.

 

Shandy/KayT, on cider. I read through my December entries yesterday – I do enjoy my own prose. And I think I agree with you, Kay. December is always depressing, as the light goes out, day by day. And January always feels a bit better, as the horrors of Christmas are left behind and the light comes back. I don’t see anything more than that. I seem to have done lots of garden-walking and knitting in December.

 

But, Cat, Nadal is certainly a great advertisement for the teetotal life. What a match!