1. I go to the allotment, not particularly because anything needs doing or because I want to do anything there but just because I feel like I need to spend some time in daylight. I put on a discussion about the origin (and development) of cities, and dig over some fallow beds and carve out a brand new growing space: a trapezoid that will be perfect for growing squash or a tall wigwam of beans.

2. I’d taken the spade on a whim but I’m glad I did: it’s the perfect tool for cutting out the edges of the new bed. A few weeks ago, the sides would have crumbled under the blade but after weeks of rain, the heavy clay walls cut cleanly.

3. The cat frowns at me from the window sill – I blink at him but he continues to frown. “Ok, bbye then,” I say but as soon as I turn to walk on, he jumps down and attaches himself to my leg. I stroke him for a little while then say goodbye a second time but he won’t let me go. I try to shake him off gently, then a little more persistently but he follows me across the (traffic-free) road and to the end of the street. Eventually I have to enlist the postman to help: he distracts the cat while I make a run for it.

1. I stand on the path where it narrows and look down the steep slope over the area that reminds me of the Arctic “drunken forests” (here though, they’re spindly silver birch). I can hear traffic away in the distance but the woods above me and below, the valley beyond them, and the tree-covered hill to the north are all still.

1b. There are some little puffball mushrooms on the path. As they’re already detached from their colonies and well past their best, I think of Clare’s Alec and stomp on them.

2. I read about the probe landing on the comet with a sense of awe and wonder – I can’t imagine how much work went into even the smallest bit the mission and yet people came together to do it. It also reminds me of a thought I had on Sunday: my book referenced, in passing, the magnificence of the ISS and it truly dawned on me for the first time what an achievement that is. When we look up to see it streak across the sky, not only are people up there right now as it goes over our heads but it’s on such a large scale that we can see it from Earth with our naked eyes. I over-use the word ‘awesome’, but that really, really is awesome.

3. A well wound centre-pull yarn ball reminds me of a spirograph picture and this ball in particular reminds me of one drawn with a thick felt tip.

1. Amongst the rubble from John’s electronics teardowns, I find just what I need – the underside of a panel from an old printer is divided into small sections and is begging to be used as a makeshift artists’ palette.

2. I like how Lily has a list of houses that she knows and how happy she is whenever she arrives at one of them. As soon as we reach the gateway, she pulls at her lead and bustles past whoever is opening the door to make herself at home.

3. I listen to an old Bookclub interview with Douglas Coupland, where he describes discovering pop art for the first time as a child (specifically Blam and Warhol’s Campbell soup), and how it showed him that he could treat words like art supplies. It’s one of those “right words at the right time” moments.

4. The dog lies down histrionically and buries her nose between me and the sofa cushion: Kaufman is sat a little too close to her and she’s in a huff – I know how to bring her out of it though. I put one hand into the opposite side of my hoodie pouch and rub its contents. Her nose darts into the open side of the pouch and rustles about until she finds the treats within.

1. The parcel I’ve been eagerly awaiting arrives – my new sketchbook and some other art equipment – but almost better than the contents is the packaging: sheets of soft sea-green bubbles.

2. The edge of the cheese has dried out but the spoiled crescent works well as a goofy grin or, flipped over, a heavy walrus moustache.

3. I couldn’t be happier with the new allotment: its beds are generously sized & well defined, relatively weed-free and have amazingly rich soil. I only intend to look around but it’s too good to resist – within the hour, I have the furthest bed weeded, dug over and sown with broad beans to overwinter.

1. We treat ourselves to a day off and spend most of it sat together on the sofa, with a snoring dog and a rotating selection of cats. For me, the day is about a feeling of cosy warmth: from reading in my pyjamas, with my double socks and under a blanket, in the morning to the inner toastiness provided by the giant cottage pie in the evening.

2. For one reason or another, the ground is considerably higher on one side of the wall than the other – and we’re more familiar with the wall from the higher side so from the lower side, the wall appears disproportionately tall. On the lower track, it mirrors the tall cliffs further up the cutting and, as with all the other assorted constructions around the woods, it makes us think of the hands that cut and carried the rocks into place 150years ago.

3. I watch, through the oven glass, through the pyrex, waiting for the contents of the pie to start bubbling.

1. To be able to experiment and not be overly concerned with the outcome. If it works, it’ll be a bonus but if not, I can use established recipes next week and still get a result.

1b. The powder passes through a few stages before it is usable – dusty, lumpy, clumpy and a stage where it looks like when you’re making scones, then often too wet, claggy, for a few seconds before turning into putty. It then only starts workable for a few minutes before it starts to dry. A very peculiar beast indeed.

2. John had taken me to my course in the morning and having stayed longer at his mum’s than planned, he picks me up on his way home too. I spend my bus fare on cream cakes instead.

3. I’m cold before we leave the house and still cold when we arrive at our destination, but soon my feet, in my thick socks and warm winter boots, are fantastically cosy.

3b. The stack of pizzas is so high that I can rest my chin on the boxes as we drive back to the house.