1. To have time for a good breakfast, chores and our own “artistic” pursuits before leaving the house. This seems to be a pattern for the day: we do lots of little fun things.
2. I let Lily off the lead as soon as we arrive at the house. She charges right through – to the kitchen where people usually gather then to her real goal, the garden at the back where she finds her beloved Pop-pops and some grass to chew.
2b. The small room full of bold paintings. (It’s the room where I saw an artist working a few weeks ago.)
2c. I find just what I want at the first charity shop.
2d. Delicious pastries, which we eat in the deserted skate park.
3. The park is busy with colour and joy.
3b. The little boy strokes Lily through the fence and later, a small crowd of small people gathers to do the same.
3c. My suggestion isn’t as successful as it should be – the ball doesn’t catch in the conifer every time – but retrieving it with the sticks and the nets is so much fun that he laughs constantly anyway.
4. We are alone in the woods: from the moment we enter to after we leave, we don’t see another person or dog. The undergrowth rustles with birds and squirrels, and I sing to myself as I walk.
4c. I tell John about a conversation from the day before, when A and I caught ourselves accidentally giving agency to evolution and joked that humans were designed by one Mr Edward Volution. John gives him a middle name, and together, at the same time, we give him Irish ancestry. Mr Edward Vernon O’Lution.