1. Against the wall, the leaves come up beyond my ankles: they rustle and float around as I walk through them. It’s strange to think that just a few months ago, they were all suspended in the air above – and in a few months time, their replacements will be providing the canopy instead.
1b. We stop where the path widens at the top of the muddy slope. I look around, surprised how far I can see in each direction. Behind me, the full bank of skinny silver birches (which I usually admire while bisecting it) is even more impressive than usual.
1c. I see the bitten dog from afar and notice she seems a little happier today. Later, our paths meet and the dog is happy to chat to Lily – a far cry from Tuesday’s fear of everything. The woman confirms the dog’s progress and tells me that, surprisingly, the owner of the dogs that did the biting has got in touch and offered to pay.
1d. John is still at the bus stop when we turn out onto the road. We run to him.
2. Parallel rows of stitches, perfectly straight and even – it’s almost a shame they’re barely visible shading the cloth.
3. Lily wakes with a start and I laugh at her bed hair. Later, she’s so deeply asleep that she doesn’t heart John come in: she only wakes as he clunks around the kitchen. She is dozy and confused (was he just in the kitchen all evening?) but her tail wags faster as he approaches.