1. At lunchtime, we realise that neither of us has seen Kaufman since we woke up. We stand on the balcony and call his name: within a minute, a meow echoes up from near the chicken run then a face appears. He calls to us and we wave and meow back at him. He runs up the three flights of stairs, chatting the whole way and in the kitchen, we reward him with milk.

2. The bowls are *just* soft enough to turn. For once, I remember what my tutor said about taking the time to look at the bowl properly before you start to turn it: to see where it needs reducing and where it is already fine. I’m rewarded with the opportunity to try out a new (to me) type of foot and produce my favourite bowl yet.

3. The allotments are so much nicer now that one of two abandoned plots on the other side of the path has been reclaimed.

3b. I’m slowly picking away at things: I prune my summer-fruiting raspberries, I pick weeds from around the pak choi and start weeding the next overrun bed.

3c. Walking around the park, Lily takes a wide circle around what I describe to my mum as “a big, terrifying ferocious dog”. The lad walking the other hound smiles at the description of his Yorkshire Terrier.

3d. There is another, bigger, allotment site at the top of the park. I ogle at the precise, neat rows of the corner plot, with pure allotment envy.

0. I wake up from a rather cathartic dream and feel much better (both from the dream and from having 12 hours of sleep).

1. The treadling is such hard work that I feel disheartened. I can’t believe though that it’s either that inefficient or that my calf muscles are too weak to do it properly – not after leaving in hilly Yorkshire for 14 years. I systematically investigate different things and apply drops of oil in the right places until the movement is smooth and easy.

2. To have a beloved top to fall back on when everything else feels a bit meh.

3. Rather than being left alone while we go out for dinner, Lily goes to see her BFF Maggie-dog next door. We look out of the window and see the girls running around the decking together.

1. A dollop of leftover curry for my lunch: the cauliflower florets fall apart as I spread them on completely inauthentic sour French bread.

2. I have a headache so go to bed for a rest (well, it was intended to be a nap but caffeine put paid to that). I curl around the dog (who does sleep) and read my new (comic) book.

3. John finds me in the garden, gathering in the washing. He joins me and we drink our tea out at the patio table, with the cats playfighting (leading into mutual washing) for our entertainment.

4. The deepening blue of the sky at dusk.

1. Because space is tight in the garage, my pottery chores overflow into the front garden. I clean my tools and equipment in the sunshine. I’ll miss this in a few months time.

1b. I’m getting the hang of bowls again. I decide my next two steps for improving my skills. (Bigger ones, and also one that match a predetermined shape to improve my consistency.)

2. We find more common ground with the new person and all laugh a lot at a horrendous film.

3. I finish the ball of yarn: it’s not gone quite as far as I thought it would but the rectangle is beautifully even, with crisp straight edges.

1. Perfectly flaky croissants and nicely browned bacon, with a just spot-on cup of tea.

2. I crack open an overgrown runner bean – inside is a bright, almost cerise seed. It’s such a shocking pink that it looks fake.

2b. The best thing about not growing that much not having as many young/annual plants in the garden this year is that the chickens can play out for hours without trashing everything.

3. It feels like I’ve been cooking all afternoon but it’s worth it: the chicken meat falls from the bone and the vegetable sides are colourful and delicious.

1. To see examples of something I’ll be learning about in a few weeks time – exciting!

1b. Everyone gasps when I smash the bowls but I like seeing their profile: today’s little bowl has thin, even sides and the bottom matches too.

1c. Smoothing out the yellow slip with a spoon and a kidney.

2. I sit in a heap on the sofa – feeling exhausted, hot and unwell – and John tells me he likes the colours of my outfit.

2b. Soup that hits the spot. (Figuratively, not literally – for once I don’t spill it down my top.)

3. We re-watch Office Space for the nth time and, yet again, enjoy how well observed it is (though not at all subtle!). We’re grateful that we don’t have to put up with that bullshit any more.