0. I turn over in the soft light of dawn – I’m in the most comfortable slumped position but know that it’ll hurt my back if I stay like that without support for long. As if reading my mind, Lily creeps up the bed and lies exactly where I need her to.

1. A short amount of playing gives us a multitude of ideas.

2. John suggests we walk to the woods the other way – the long way around the main road – to make the most of the surprise sunshine. The next house along’s shrubs are coming into their own; ‘for sale’ signs now declare themselves sold; the demolition is starting at the old warehouse; the willow is mirrored in the canal; the broad beans in the raised beds look strong and healthy; the canal (from the other side) is so still that tiny droplets from the bridge cause wide ripples below; the three chestnut horses swish their tails; the almost lime leaves on the baby beech saplings; a squeeked conversation in the undergrowth; John puts his hand on the craggy straight trunk as he passes; a comfortable silence; the clean water pooled on top of the bin; he catches her lead before it goes through the puddle. We made the most of more than just the nice weather.

3. It’s usually inconsequential soft furnishing in tv shows or films that distract me but this time it’s all the different window shutters.

1. I sow the mental seeds for various new projects – and most importantly, I figure out the next steps for at least some of them.

2. The cute dog holds its own lead in its mouth.

3. A good thick layer of dust on the upper book shelves.

3b. As I wipe the photo albums, I quickly flick through them. I’m surprised by how young we all look – even the ‘mature students’ amongst our group are almost a decade younger than I am now.

3c. Tilda creeps around the corners of the wet carpet.

4. A silly joke is revived and made even sillier.

1. A long walk through the woods, chatting about this and that.

1b. After yesterday’s cyanotype printing, I can’t stop looking at the shapes of leaves. I want to print a collection of edibles, a collection of spring-time plants, a collection mapping our walks… And when I get home, the ideas continue. Me being me, who knows if any of them will come to life but it’s exciting to think about them now all the same.

1c. To remember why I write these things every day: to accentuate the positive, as they say.

2. The onion slices cleanly under the sharp knife. (I only really appreciate this in hindsight when a later, less fresh, onion doesn’t behave as nicely.)

2b. I open the door – not because I need to vent smoke or steam from the kitchen but just to listen to bird song while I cook.

3. The sound of animals dreaming or snoring nearby.

3b. Tilda wakes from a dream that involves a lot of lip licking then goes into the kitchen for some water. Perhaps she was dreaming of drinking – or eating salty food.

1. John gets up earlier than normal to make me breakfast.

2. Her work is just beautiful.

2b. The process is surprisingly simple but wonderfully effective.

2c. When the excess chemicals wash away and the paper turns from a slate grey into just the richest blue.

3. I find some handthrown bowls in a charity shop – the glaze is absolutely perfect. I buy them for cereal – and for inspiration.

1. I surprise myself by picking the fancier option for lunch. It’s nothing like I expected but delicious.

2. The chaffinch hops back and forth along the balcony, looking in through the window. I want to feed it some crumbs but know that if I’m not careful, I’ll find the chaffinch’s head in a cat’s mouth. And that’s why I spent a portion of my Friday evening trying to throw bits of slightly stale cream crackers into the gutter above the bay window.

3. I notice how the shape of the finished stitch changes depending on whether I hold the loop to one side or another. I feel a new level of understanding and control.

1. I spend the day tidying my craft supplies – I refold yardage, I ball yarn and find new homes for dozens of different things.

2. Lily starts grazing on grass and cleavers just past the elder tree – we’re so close to the house that Strange, then Kaufman, join us. As a green-eating, meowing group, we slowly make our way to Wood Hill then Lily leads the charge down hill and we loop back through the woods. Strange leaps through the bluebells and Lily rolls on her back in the leaves. Kaufman, meanwhile, is the king of cool.

(Strange going into the bluebells was cuter – those big leaps all the way, but I only videoed her exit.)

(Some dogs roll in horse or fox poo. Lily is, thankfully, not that type of dog.)

3. We go down the road for dinner. It’s busier than normal so we’re stuck on a table that’s a little exposed, a little in the way, just next to a doorway. Then as the waiter takes our order, he mentions that a booth has opened up and would we like to move? Yes, yes we would.

3b. A faint smell of food clings to me after we return home. I couldn’t tell you what it is but I eventually remember what it reminds me of: the “kids club” at the hotel we used to go to in Cornwall when I was little.