1. Without the dark curtains framing the window, the room looks brighter and bigger. Later, after they’ve been washed and hemmed, we re-hang them and I remember how much they pull the room together.

2. I spend the afternoon writing something fun. No music, just wind in the leaves and bird song as a soundtrack.

3. We walk around the woods in the golden hour. We enjoy the low, warm sun on the bluebells, the new fresh green leaves at the end of holly branches and, as we’re passing the big houses in Apperley Bridge, the faint smell of bubblegum on the breeze.

1. To have time for a good breakfast, chores and our own “artistic” pursuits before leaving the house. This seems to be a pattern for the day: we do lots of little fun things.

2. I let Lily off the lead as soon as we arrive at the house. She charges right through – to the kitchen where people usually gather then to her real goal, the garden at the back where she finds her beloved Pop-pops and some grass to chew.

2b. The small room full of bold paintings. (It’s the room where I saw an artist working a few weeks ago.)

2c. I find just what I want at the first charity shop.

2d. Delicious pastries, which we eat in the deserted skate park.

3. The park is busy with colour and joy.

3b. The little boy strokes Lily through the fence and later, a small crowd of small people gathers to do the same.

3c. My suggestion isn’t as successful as it should be – the ball doesn’t catch in the conifer every time – but retrieving it with the sticks and the nets is so much fun that he laughs constantly anyway.

4. We are alone in the woods: from the moment we enter to after we leave, we don’t see another person or dog. The undergrowth rustles with birds and squirrels, and I sing to myself as I walk.

4b. Lasagne.

4c. I tell John about a conversation from the day before, when A and I caught ourselves accidentally giving agency to evolution and joked that humans were designed by one Mr Edward Volution. John gives him a middle name, and together, at the same time, we give him Irish ancestry. Mr Edward Vernon O’Lution.

1. In contrast to last week’s frustrating session at pottery, I have lots of fun – we laugh heartily during class and beyond; I start some new items and I refine some existing ones. My work that has come out of the kiln is good too: some of it isn’t at all as I’d imagined it (eg, the blue pyramid above should be brown/blue mottled) but I still like it. I feel like I’m making progress again.

2. Singalong Friday afternoon.

2b. The jet trails converge from four to two, then one as the plane passes across the sky.

2c. The caterpillar on John’s shoulder moves like it’s in a cartoon.

3. Even though I’m already in my pyjamas, we decided on the spur of the moment to go to Leeds to watch B’s new band play. The PA is a little too loud, a little distorted in the small space but we enjoy the gig all the same: the drums – played with big padded beaters and brushes – are considerably more interesting than one might expect, the guitar “solos” & vocal harmonies are pleasant and a surprise cover makes our night.

0. Last night, John had been umming and ahhing about whether to go to the office, and when I wake suddenly and can’t feel him beside me, I think I’ve overslept and he’s gone. Then, later, I wake again and he’s there, in bed beside me, and it’s not even time to get up yet (I just hadn’t reached far enough the first time).

1. The towels hang flat on the line. The duck egg blues and faded lime-yellows look fresh and spring-like.

2. While sorting though some old papers, I discover I’m living as my 11 year old self wanted. (This is nice, because so often I feel like I have let down my teenage self. Only the shocking low number of cats in our household – only three?! – would disappoint me in Year 7 and, to be frank, this disappoints me at 34 as well. We need more cats!)

3. It’s been a strange day – unpleasantly humid and marked with small but jarring happenings – but it ends well: actual comfort food (enchiladas) with comfort-food-esque entertainment (random episodes of 30 Rock).

3b. The bright halo around the moon.

1. We share our favourite cheese jokes. Each one makes John bellow with laughter.

– What do you call a cheese that’s not yours? Nacho cheese
– What cheese is best for people who talk to themselves? Halloumi
– What cheese is best for hiding a horse? Mascarpone
– What cheese do you use to entice a grizzly? Camembert
– How do you defuse a cheese bomb? Caerphilly
– What’s left after an explosion at Jamaican cheese factory? De Brie

2. I repot some houseplants: they fit so much better into their new homes and using one of my handmade pots is a special treat – the succulent fits it perfectly and it makes the pot look better, more real, too.

2b. The weeds, which have been bothering me for the last fortnight, come up quickly.

2c. To finally use my new whirly-gig airer (a year after I bought it).

2d. I can’t find one of the chickens – I look up and down the garden, and in the coop in case she’s laying, but she is nowhere to be found. Finally, I walk into the woods and there, amongst the nettles and brambles, stands a shock of orange. She gives me a bemused look: why had I been calling her? She’d been stood there all along.

3. A glass of squash at lunch time. Boy, I needed that.