An eight-litre Instant Pot and all its accoutrements may have found a new home with the family of Serena the Fiddle. I sure hope so; it takes up lots of space, and it's much too big for just me. They come in smaller sizes, and I may eventually buy the three-litre version.

Likewise, the middle-sized Romertopf clay-baker (about right for a three-kilo chicken) will eventually go to Mark the bass (singer, not fish) from the church choir. He was searching the rummage sale to replace a much-mourned Romertopf that suffered a terminal crack, but demurred on accepting mine because he couldn't quite believe that I'm genuinely ready to let it go. "But I haven't used it since Edmund died," I wailed. He looked at me sideways and said, "I've heard of that ..." I gather that the Anglican norm is to hang on to everything forever "just in case". I persuaded him to take it at Christmas if I still haven't used it by then.

On Saturday I heard from my great-nephew Logan and his sister Faith, who have both completed their first-year final exams. Logan already has his results: a GPA more or less equivalent to an average of 85 percent (I don't grok the GPA system; it wasn't used in Canada when I was last a student). Faith's results won't be in for another week or so, but her work to date indicates that she should score in the same neighbourhood as Logan. So that investment is paying off.