Token snow things: heavy clumps falling from the holly bush, bent branches righting themselves in relief; Lily’s headfirst rolls and realising her fur and proportions remind me of polar bears; the crunch as I lower my foot into the imprint I made yesterday.

1. As a break from editing, I revisit a world I had started to create and am reminded what I liked about it in the first place.

2. While I hug her close, we both look out of the window at the snow. Then when John arrives, she climbs up onto my shoulder and goes to sit on his. She returns to back for the journey downstairs and further cuddles.

3. “Do you want a [shopping] list?” “Yes, but leave space so I can add my own treats to it.” NO DEAL.

1. My hands overheat themselves to compensate for the previous coldness. The warmth tingles. (This happened multiple times today, possibly not a good thing!)

2. Lily loves the snow. It is perhaps her most favourite thing, alongside eggs, being under the duvet and flat, lawned gardens. And the sea, and shoes, and the beck… Anyway, we love the snow because Lily loves the snow.

3. The white world turns a soft mauve at dusk. I sit down with a cup of hot, sweet Earl Grey tea in my new favourite (terribly tactile) cup.

4. We listen to archaeology lectures and make stupid jokes while I sew hundreds of long straight lines in the most perfect blue.

1. Yesterday we enjoyed the different sole prints in the snow. Someone was wearing pimpled tennis shoes, another walking boots with a curved triangle pattern. Today we search for our own sole prints in the noise.

1b. Speaking of noise, we throw snowballs off the bridge. They make a lovely pluff sound as they hit the water far below. It reminds of the reverbating peawow-wow-wow-wow from throwing stones onto the solid ice a few years ago. We repeat the sounds to each other as we walk up the steps to the main road.

1c. I whistle a swanee whistle’s drop and swoop, and suddenly remember playing a real one in a school room when I was … six?

2. My hands feel tender and slightly bruised after forcing the thick needle through the choked cloth for a few hours. Carla feels cool and silky smooth under my fingers.

3. The cats cuddle and hug as they enjoy the spare duvet (which is temporarily on the sofa because COSY!). Carla hugs an arm around Boron, then latter, spooning him, places a single paw on this head. “Look,” I say, “they’re sleeping like we go to sleep.” It is ridiculously cute.

1. A trail of colour heading down the white path. (Thankfully all too distracted by the prospect (or memory of) sledging to notice the bedheaded woman watching them from her kitchen.)

2. As soon as we reach the first clearing, Lily drops and rolls to make a dog snow angel. When she uprights herself again, she has a lump of snow on the end of her nose, which makes us laugh. We throw snowballs for her and she bounces around trying to catch them. We laugh again.

2b. The fat Staffy grunts out a greeting as it comes over to say hello. Her wagging tail shakes her whole body.

3. To have nothing more pressing to do than sew all afternoon.

3b. We listen to an audiobook of Day of the Triffids. A foot rubs mine at a sad bit.