1. A frantic wrestle ends when Tilda gently taps Strange with her front paws then bounces away.

2. John takes Lily to say goodbye to her beloved Auntie Iris (who is moving back to Hong Kong). The house is painfully quiet without its two noisiest members.

2b. I ply the rest of the yarn together and after winding it into a skein, proudly record its details in my notebook. A 70:30 wool/silk mix spun to cobweb then plied to about laceweight. I have about 300 yards in that skein – just about enough for a small, lacey scarf.

3. As my fingers hover over the keys, it occurs to me that I’m not exactly sure what it is that I don’t like about the book. I struggle and tease my thoughts until they untangle and I know what I want to say.

1. Reading on the sofa with the cats for an hour and a half before John wakes up.

2. The chunks of lamb are sweet, spicy and slightly sticky. The milkshake for dessert is just sweet.

3. Everyone laughs at the expression on Lily’s face when she comes back downstairs.

1. There isn’t too much chatting because we’re all so engrossed in our work.

1b. I’m very much enjoying myself but for a moment, just a moment, I have an ache to be at home with John and the animals.

2. To find a tool that does exactly what I need.

3. Tilda’s pupils are so wide that there is barely any lemon left at all.

1. Kaufman is sat at the edge of the rainbow – just his whiskers and forehead are glowing red – but Lily is in the whole spectrum: as she plays, her white fur is dyed in stripes.

2. The dog crouches low, rooted to the spot, then it sees its mum going down the Cutting and its excitement wins out. Lily has been hanging close but as soon as it takes off, she wants to runs after it, to play. She strains at her lead and looks longingly down the path.

3. John’s excellent omelettes. (#notaeuphemism)

1. Lily runs up and down the green field.

1b. I reach out to the tree for support as I clamber but then retract my hand in horror – something wet and clammy on the trunk, ick! When I look though, it is only jelly ear fungus – the largest amount I’ve ever seen on one tree.

2. Every now and then, a pair of eyes momentarily appear in the box’s narrow opening before disappearing into the darkness again. Then the doorbell rings and a whole head emerges to ask what’s going on.

3. The conversation meanders as all our discussions do but by the end, the only thing we agree on is how little we really know. I think.