0. Tilda has been waiting patiently for a tickle. When I lean forward, it’s almost too much for her – with glee, she drops and rolls onto her back so I can tickle her fluffy tummy. These cats have learnt some very doggy habits from their big sister, Lil.

1. The clay is soft and pleasantly malleable underneath my fingers: I’ve missed it. I start two projects I’ve been meaning to make for a while.

1b. My two refining-my-work bowls are ready to fire and all the glazing I did just before Christmas is in the kiln – meaning next time I go in, I’ll have a lot of fun things to bring home.

2. The speed of the tail’s rotation increases as John rounds the corner.

3. “He is a GENIUS of exaggeration.”

1. To be saved from having to deal with my phone company by John’s contact spray.

2. The beef smells delicious as it browns in the pan. The onions smell delicious as they brown in the pan. The parsnips… I’m clearly hungrier than I thought – thankfully the stew doesn’t take too long.

3. The lecture series isn’t quite as good as I’d hoped – too much emphasis on poetry, points pressed for too long, his voice a little too forced for clear articulation – but every lecture, I learn something that delights me.

0. “Shush, ” I tell Kaufman when he visits in the night. “You’re purring too loudly; you’ll wake the dog.”

1. After a rich diet over the break, I have been craving toast, just normal boring toast. The toaster browns it perfectly and I leave it to go cold before I butter it (“hotel toast” is my favourite.)

2. A notebook of samples and, well, notes.

3. Strange often sleeps on her back, white belly on show and I wonder if she learnt it from the dog. Later she burrows under the crochet blanket, a little colourful bump confusing her teacher.

3b. Tilda sits on my knee – a rare treat and I’m sad to have to move her to make dinner. Later, after we’ve eaten and she’s finished doing cat things, she comes back and sits a little way away, unsure if she is allowed on me again. I pat my knee and her eyes light up. She settles down again.

1. I stare at the giant mounds of rocks. My favourite thing about the woods in winter is seeing again what was previously hidden.

1b. The woman thinks my fat springer is her fat springer. We laugh when she realises her mistake. I’ve done the same thing myself of course.

2. An enjoyable sentence pops up in the middle of the story: “A well stocked mind is safe from boredom.”

3. I always marvel at the lightshades – the copper, the polygons – but somehow missed the nicest thing of all: how they cast dancing dapples on the ceiling.

3b. The food is the best we’ve had there – and that’s saying something. The spices are blended so perfectly that I can’t tell exactly which flavours I’m enjoying the most.

1. No one told me that being an adult would involve being able to accurately describe poo. Lily’s has gone from veg soup to supermarket cheap sausage meat – which is progress and (hopefully) a sign that her constant rancid farting will come to an end.

2. Strange’s nose is pinker than normal: cold from her adventures.

3. The fibres cling to the bristles until you turn the carders the other way around then they magically lift away in one smooth motion.

3b. Rolls of wool ready for spinning tomorrow: ink and teal, according to the labels and I don’t think I can say it better myself. (Though it does remind me of a glaze I used in pottery the other week which was called “resplendent peacock”. Best. Name. Ever.)

1. We imagine Kaufman and Lily confusing their cat/dog friends by tell them about how, from time to time, their humans become robots.

2. Spaniel ears in the wind.

3. A new (to me) concept provoking the mental equivalent of pricked up ears.