1. I feel like I’m getting the hang of turning/trimming. One pot, which I thought was a bit wobbly and meh, is transformed by the shaping of a nice foot.

1b. The kiln is unloaded – I didn’t realise how much of my work was in there. The first thrown pot I’ve taken through to completion comes out nicely, my texture experiment worked and my two wall planters are very pleasant too.

1c. I drop the chunks into the reclaim bucket and fine particles billow and swirl in the water.

2. A warm buttered muffin and a cup of tea at tea time.

3. The faint dings of coins in my pocket. The resonating ring of the metal curtain rings. The pah-doiiiiiing of the bone hitting the guitar.

1. The pitter-patter of the rain, the gush of the beck.

2. It feels like it should be a productive day – indoor chores at least since the rain has stopped play outside – but we decide to write it off and watch disaster films instead.

3. John tries a new recipe (for jambalaya) and it’s a success.

1. The little girl is going to the football match on her own terms – yes, she is wearing a football shirt but she is coordinating it with a team-colours tutu.

2. Everyone’s making the most of the sunny afternoon. I don’t buy anything but I enjoy hanging out with my favourite person and making him laugh.

3. I underscore our journey back to Bradford on the xylophone.

4. Lily follows me to the other sofa – such a mummy’s girl. I stroke her trimmed silky fur as we chat.

1. We visit Cartwright Hall and make funnies amongst the artwork. We both enjoy the Tai-Shan Schierenberg exhibition, and John is also inspired by the Lichtenstein print and the giant wire sculptures at the front of the building. I like some of the textile pieces and point out the burial goods made with Egyptian paste – I’ll be making my own versions of those in a few months.

2. The room grows darker as we chat then the deluge begins. It’s the heaviest rain I’ve seen in a long time – it’s almost hypnotic to watch.

2b. A moment of unintentional but well-timed comedy with an umbrella.

2c. The beck is as busy as I’ve ever see it – topping the bank on the far side and lapping over the footpath at the curve slightly downstream. I watch it flow until the rain drives us back inside.

3. Using a blanket as bait (she loves woolly blankets), Tilda cuddles into me on the sofa. It’s taken a while but we’re slowly bringing her out of her shell. (In the bedroom, she’s been a cuddler for months but is still quite aloof in the rest of the house.)

1. Brill-iant fish puns. [Inspired by this nonsense.]

2. Lily and I step out onto the patio and are immediately set upon by the three cats – sniffing and meowing hello.

2b. Lily has to sleep on the rug – her head on the beanbag – because Kaufman is on the sofa. Later, she gets to sit on the sofa, but when Kaufman returns, she sits up, leaning away over the arm, to be as far away from him as possible.

2c. The White-Bellied Crew go to Wood Hill. When I stand up to head home, they both bound through the long grass and into the trees.

3. The man from the art gallery has moved his easel outside to enjoy a little late afternoon sun. He chats to a passerby while he draws.

1. John suddenly decides to tidy his desk and I copy him. Mine looked worse than it was – it takes little more than closing an open binder (trapping all my scruffy notes inside) and a wipe down with a cloth to make it look considerably neater.

2. A chord progression on his guitar reminds me of Billy Bragg and John launches into a good impersonation.

2b. Dancing with Lily – well, she just watches and wags her tail when I do her favourite moves – then playing catch with her bone.

3. I’ve been watching the squat dog running around for my whole walk up the path but it is only when I get close that I see that the dog is chasing a laughing little boy – then it flips around and the laughing little boy is chasing the dog. Their dad walks steadily behind them, presumably happy that they’re tiring each other out.