1. To free up John’s seized back, we walk over to the allotment at lunchtime – now I have a key we can have a proper explore. Amongst the weeds, we find more fruit bushes than I’d expected – ripe raspberries and heavily laden blackcurrant, a prickly one I presume to be gooseberry and one I can’t identify until I see little proto-blueberries. There are also lots of sectioned off beds ready to be reclaimed and I stumble (literally) upon a tiny pond in the middle. And the finds don’t end there – more water barrels, cloches and a storage box reveal themselves and inside the shed, there is a selection of wonderfully useful odds and sods. I really have been very lucky.

2. Even though the editing is painful at times, I’ve rediscovered my love for the story and its world. Its jokes make me laugh, I sit up with anticipation when certain characters re-appear, and it’s liberating to replace long-winded paragraphs with a single sentence. And as happened last week, I suddenly have a realisation about why something isn’t working. (I’d fixed it in itself but a part of a whole, it sticks out jarringly.) Now I know how to fix it. (I think.)

3. I realise that when I call John “Johnny John John” (as I often do), I put the emphasis on the “John” of “Johnny”, but when I call him the diminutive on its own, I put the emphasis on the last syllable instead: it’s JohnE (for his middle name), not just “Johnny”. Noting the difference makes me smile.

0. Because of his tweaked back, John has to sleep on the floor. I miss his leaning into him, his warmth and being able to whisper our love just as we’re falling asleep. But boy, do I sleep well!

1. I make a bridge between two discordant sections and we enjoy the word “perfunctory”.

2. A cheeky Pizza Pieces for lunch – a rare treat.

2b. The busker plays Johnny Cash – and he does a fine job of it. His sign says he’s raising money to go to the Leeds Festival and I think of my own happy festival going days. Perhaps that was his intention. I give him some money and tell him to have fun.

2c. The family – a mother, father and two pre-teen boys – all have magenta streaks in their hair.

2d. After an afternoon in the humid city centre, I sit on the floor in the cool office with a glass of juice and feel myself rehydrate.

3. After my last clothes buying failure, I’m delighted to find that this group fit perfectly.

4. Keen to avoid my own bad back, I lie on the floor wriggling and stretching while reading. My muscles creak, my joints crack and all in all, it feels just great.

1. (More flowers in small garden observations – it’s clearly the season for it.) A hydrangea, covered with blue pompoms, fills the space between the wall and the house. Nearby another garden is similar clogged with Lady’s Mantle.

1b. It’s impossible to walk to the shops and back without meeting someone we know.

2. The plume of milk in tea.

3. The egg explodes with a pop when it hits a hidden tree stump.

1. I have a list of things to accomplish today but am distracted by a silly thing. But at least I do that silly thing awesomely ;)

2. Stretching my stiff back and shoulders while the tea brews. Parts of me creak to start with but feel so much better by the time I finish.

3. The, um, crack of crackling between our teeth. (I only each the tiniest bit as it makes me feel queasy but I enjoy listening to John eating it.)

4. For the second day in a row, I noticed little gardens packed with colour. Even the weeds along snickets and pathways are so colourful that they look deliberate.

5. Hanging washing out in the peaceful evening air, knowing it’ll all be dry by the time I wake up tomorrow.

1. Another day ‘on the wheel’. My first cylinder of the morning is a bit of a failure but after that, I get it – all the rest of my cylinders throughout the day are straight edged and while I still lack control over the specific shape of my bowls, they’re generally getting nicer – rounder.

1b. I try a different type of clay. It feels like chewing gum when I’m wedging it but with the extra water on the wheel, it’s silky.

1c. I try a different wheel, one with an attached seat and I see what the tutor meant yesterday about being like getting on or off a horse.

1d. Turning – neatening the shape of the bottom and making a foot – transforms my misshaped hollows into actual bowls.

1e. I try to think how the course could have been better and the only things I can think of is the inclusion of cake and dogs. Then I remember that I had homemade cake at the in-house cafe yesterday and a dog came for a visit today.

2. Another doggy visitor – Maggie-dog from next door suddenly appears. She runs into the living room and jumps on the sofa to say hello, then is off again, back into the dining room and then upstairs to the bedroom and bathroom. When I finally get hold of her to take her back outside, her little strong tail bangs against my side.

3. The smells from the kitchen as John cooks us a curry. He tells me it’ll be “methi-y. Not meh-thi-y, but fenugreeky”.

1. Journeys:
– Out: The bus hugs the canal for much of its route but just beyond the roundabout, the road almost kisses the water. I forgot how close it gets. // the birds tugging at the grass in the deserted park.
– Return: the couple look around and smile as I make an extended farting noise down the phone to Mum // a surprise – a dozen or so chickens milling around a garden. // the impossibly middle class scene at Calverley Park – people milling around the school fair provides a backdrop for the cricket match, and along the railings, cheerful knitted jerseys ahead of next week’s Tour.

2. I thought the (pottery on the wheel) course would be hectic but I’m the only student who turns up. I have wonderful one-on-one tuition – but the tutor is good enough to give me space too. She knows that I mostly need to figure it out for myself – and I do.

2b. The thick splat as a slop of slurry flicks from the wheel into the plastic tray.

2c. I have to teach my hands to work in the completely new way. I don’t mind the failures: I know the skill and muscle memory will come in time.

2d. I thought I’d have to go back into the city to get lunch but no, there is a cafe on site, with handmade Victoria sponge.

3. Chicken chores turn into garden ones. Tilda shadows me, keen to sniff anything I hold out to her – she does not like lemon balm ;).

3b. I nip the tops off some cat mint plants to encourage bushiness and after letting Tilda sniff them (“yes, those I like!”) tuck the spare leaves into my jeans’ pocket. I forget about them until later Strange attempts to gnaw my thigh.