1. The cats follow me down to the chickens. Kaufman and Strange watch small holes for prey and Tilda leaves a paw print in the ice on the fence. The frozen glitter on leaves sparkles in the sun.

1b. A clutch of clean eggs in the nest box. The chickens are very, very slowly beginning to pick up their laying pace again. I sprinkle veg scraps, seeds and stale bread in the run for them.

2. I sit badly, curled around the dog. The pack missed each other yesterday.

2b. A squirrel creeps out along the thin branch and as we watch, a second follows then a third. They take turns grooming each other in the sunshine then disappear back inside the holly bush.

3. Perfectly flaky croissants. The familiar smell from so long ago.