1. Kaufman sits with me as I sweep the porch then after a quick trip outside, leaves perfect paw prints on the nice clean tiles.

2. Clay is so often too wet or too dry but today it was just right for my needs. Building was a pleasure – even if I didn’t do anything I intended.

2b. The bottom falls out of a too-hastily constructed bowl so I start to think about using it in different ways. I’m not sure today’s creation will be particularly good but it inspires another idea, which will kill two birds with one stone.

3. It doesn’t take Lily long to realise I have brought a bone home. She sniffs my bag then looks at it longingly while we act out an “it’s ours, not yours” skit. Finally, finally, after a bit of chase, she gets it in her mouth – and she doesn’t let go again until it is half the size.

4. I throw the meat mixture back and forth in my hands until it forms a neat ball.

5. https://twitter.com/johnleach/status/451120598258024449 – though I’d say “maniacally”.

0. The street light outside our bathroom window is broken. It’s always been quite useful – not having to turn on the bright bathroom light while going for a late night wee but now the room is dark: lit by just a distant dull security light on the house across the road. It reminds me of when Leeds changed all their street lighting from the traditional orange to white directional lights: the colour of night changed.

1. Good bread with good butter.

2. Evening crafts:

i) the black glaze is perfect – smooth and flat inside the dish, defining the dimples on the rim and there is just enough of a ghost of it on the burnished outside to make it look smoke fired. Possibly my favourite bowl so far.

ii) the low dish isn’t glazed quite as terribly as I’d feared.

iii) freed from the (poorly attached) frame, the stitched squares are no longer distorted.

iv) the fibres stretch into broad stripes on the carding combs but meld together seamlessly on the spindle. The silk lifts the colour of the wool and adds a wonderful sheen.

3. I watch John as he defends his virtual castle and together we concoct traps.

1. The sparse, thin blades of grass; green slivers across the mud.

2. Tilda liberates a ball of wool from a bag and I giggle as she plays with it so stereotypically. When I return from upstairs, there is yarn unwound right across the room and into the dining room.

3. I finish my 25 squares stitch sampler project. It’s taken longer than I thought but it’s been worthwhile: learning lots of new techniques and refining everything generally. My favourite squares are the sashiko two (rows of tiny parallel stitches), the stacked rows of buttonhole that looks like they’ve been drawn with a fine pen, the loose trellis, the diagonal needleweaving and, surprisingly, the seed stitch. I have lots of ideas for my next project.

1. The laundrette across the road from the shops has its door open. The whole area smells like fresh, clean washing.

2. The whole play is good but there are some moments that truly sparkle.

2b. Sweeping the stage – now flat and empty – is strangely soothing. My mind is calm for the only time all evening.

2c. Some of the young people are incredibly sweet and it’s been such a pleasant experience watching them grow.

3. The firm saltiness of the cheddar: a midnight snack.

1. Laughter from random chance – from music selection but it reminds John of this 30 Rock scene:

2. I’m still at the bus stop a little way down when John and Lily turn the corner onto the main road. I phone him and we wave back and forth for a second before my bus arrives. The bus driver reflects my grin as I board.

3. Two of the older boys have been playing chess in the green room and slowly they have intrigued much of the cast.

3b. The kid who has been a little shit to everyone – and who I was worried about chaperoning – is actually surprisingly good with me. As he’s leaving, he even stops to tell me a story.

4. An over-excited taxi driver tells me about his tropical and marine fish.