1. The bread is white nonsense – but good, tasty white nonsense – and the bacon a touch too crispy but together, they make the best bacon butty in the world.

2. I conjure up jobs to do at the allotment (there is always stuff that needs doing just nothing desperately immediate) to pass the time so that I can listen to more of the podcast.

2b. Laughing as I walk around the park.

2c. I’m so distracted by the smell of the Chinese takeout place that I don’t even stop to talk to a cat: A CAT! I curse myself, yet again, for not having any money on me.

3. As soon as I touch the clay, it’s like a spell has been cast on me. I can’t stop touching it. I’ll shape one more pot, just one more, I keep telling myself, until all the pots are done.

4. The finished scarf rolled up = deliciously colourful squishiness!

1. The dull plomp as I tap the rather empty bottle against my palm.

2. The salty, smokey explosion in our mouths.

3. Standing in the deers’ meadow, listening to discordant music and a story about fantastical things. I notice the different trees surrounding the clearing, the different types of grass with their different seeds, and how the blackberries are early but small this year. A swift circles overhead.

0. (From the other day but repeated today) The light shines through the granny square blanket, dappling the world underneath. The different colours make it look like a woolly stained glass window.

1. Lily is in a playful mood: she and John wrestle then she desperately looks around for something which can be thrown – first she picks up a shoe, which clunks around the room, then she finds a ball, which she catches several times before taking it to the sofa of victory.

2. Kaufman strolls over to John and demands tickles. I can’t see them – John’s bent knees and his laptop are in the way – but I can hear the conversation and it delights me that both seem to be enjoying the moment a lot.

3. My skin is settling down again after the heat of the summer disrupted its routine: it feels clean, light and clear.

Headache all day. Boo.

1. The cats, dog and John tend to me well as I lie in a heap on the sofa.

2. I look for holiday cottages or dog-friendly b&bs/hotels – and find a nice selection. My favourites are the ones that mention their own pets on the site: a sign they’ll probably be actually dog- friendly rather than just dog-tolerant.

3. Lily taps John’s arm to make him look at her and when he does, she stares at him with such intensity it’s as if she’s trying to transmit her thoughts into his brain.

1. Lily is both afraid of and intrigued by the space hoppers.

2. The bun looks almost like brioche: yellow, fluffy and with a beautifully domed top.

3. I show John how to throw cylinders on the wheel – he plays with his first one and it ends up a bit goblet shape but even though he misses a step with his second, it ends up just right. Jammy bugger.

3b. I split my time between making my nicest set of bowls yet and chores: I make a reclaim board and start recovering some slaked down clay; I glue magnets to my tools so I don’t lose them as easily; and I set up another paint can shelf so I have more drying space. It feels like my mini-studio is coming together at the same rate as my skills.

1. I really, really want a cup of tea – then I remember that I made one: it’s right there in front of me and still warm.

2. “Is that a cement board?” I ask somewhat tentatively – hopeful more anything else: it would be ridiculously fortuitous if it was just what I needed, and going spare too. Luck is with me.

2b. The woods open out into grassland. Dark clouds and sunshine make the distant hills all the more dramatic.

3. We go into the office to play with the latest technology but I am distracted by old school Shelf Pottery-style pottery and bargello cushion covers (then I crash a big fake lorry).