1. I get Lily to carry the (free) newspaper in her mouth downstairs to John. With the general move away from newspapers, we’re not losing an excellent firestarting and chicken coop lining material but we’re losing cultural cliches too. Kids of the future won’t understand why sometimes squeaky dog toys come printed with fake mastheads proclaiming them to be ‘the daily bark’ or ‘good boy news’. I’m doing what I can to keep that meme going.

2. The thread arrives for my next two sewing projects. Buying online is a bit of a gamble – the colour onscreen is different from the real life ones – but once again, they’re perfect. Golden yellows, statement pinks and muted blues & greys all together in the zip lock bag.

3. The relief after finally writing something that’s been in my head for a while: relief both that it went as planned and that I can finally move onto the next thing – back to being creative rather than just repeating the idea again and again.

1. We’re just contemplating lunch when John gets a text: not a question but a demand for us to join friends at an awesome just-reopened kebab* place. We dash out to join them then slowly return home via visiting John’s mum – for a cup of tea in the sunny garden – and a stroll in the park.

2. The words tumble out of our mouths in quick succession as we talk about arithmetic, prams, time travel and our silly mental image of P’s disco dancing dad.

3. The evening sun projects the pattern of the wrought iron fence onto the porch. For a short time, the flat unpainted render is decorated with neat parallel lines and elaborate swirls.

* Not a manky donner-meat “dirty kebab” in a limp pitta with even limper lettuce, but succulent, expertly marinaded good meat (or fish), cooked on skewers over hot coals and served in a freshly made naan and/or pilau rice. Very different from a late-night, post-club kebab, I assure you!

1. There are striking clear colours (the yellow mustard, the red peppers, and the white bread) and there are muted colours (the green olives, the purple corned beef).

2. To remember how grateful I am for a well-timed coincidence that happened many years ago.

3. The uncooked rice coated with all the different seeds and spices. There is pleasant resistance and a quiet grating sound as I push it around and around in the pan. The storm of bubbles and hissing when I add the water is shockingly loud and violent in comparison.

Following a crazily busy week at the theatre, I had a week off last week and John decided to join me – our first week off work together in years (I think since before I quit the uni in 2006 – we have had days off but never a whole week). We were going to go away but with Boron needing frequent feeding and the chickens still being a bit of a concern, we thought now wasn’t the right time so we had a lazy week at home instead – not caring too much about chores, just relaxing and eating well like we would have done on holiday. I spent a lot of time in my pyjamas = win.

Some beautiful things from the week:

1. The purple of the stained glass flower on our neighbours’ door. It’s so vivid, how haven’t I really noticed it before?

2. Weather forecasts tell us it’ll be the day with the least rain but we still expect it to be overcast – it isn’t though. The sky is blue and the sun shines brightly as we stroll across the golden sand to the sea. Sure, it would be nicer if it wasn’t so windy and we weren’t bundled up in coats and wellies in July, but it’s lovely all the same. And in case she wasn’t having enough fun already, we find a ball for Lily to chase through the waves.

3. A new expanse of vividly green grass where we used to build dens and mud pies.

4. The warmth and softness of Boron’s fur against my bare leg. Carla’s soft belly ready to be tickled with my foot.

4a. A throwaway decision we made three years ago is critical today: it brings him back to us before we even really knew he was missing.

5. Coordinated regeneration has turned the street from a dingy, downmarket cut through to a cute, colourful places to buy sweets, wedding cakes and knick-knacks for the home.

6. A man saying “I’ll make one for you” makes John’s day.

7. The smell reminds me of a cheap scent I wore as a teenager. Clean and fresh, without the complexities demanded by adult life.

8. The moment when the rest of the names were called so that they had all received one award or another.

9. When the perfect funny lyric pops into my head just in time in the beat before it’s needed.

10. Talking about nothing and everything as we walk, as we drive, as we dine…

1. It’s too hot to eat in the sun – I know! Sun! In July! How novel! – so we get our lunches to takeaway and eat in the shade of a tree instead, the green square at the centre of the town. We watch everyone arriving at the theatre and Lily jumps on the bench pretending to be people.

2. The rain shower brings occasional bursts of actually cool air through the window: we drink it up.

3. I play the fool by playing the queen.