1. The bus arrives just after I reach the stop and it accepts my day ticket too.

1b. Pizza Pieces. I realise I’ve been going there, for its excellent pizza slices, for longer than the lad that served me has probably been alive. It’s so good.

1c. I find exactly what I’m looking for and at a fifth of the online price.

2. Lily-dog wriggles and rolls. She ends up still, on her back, paws in the air. She looks between us as we laugh.

3. I need to make something fairly easy for dinner and suddenly remember an old favourite.

1. The perfect pots for the job.

2. Giggling at poor taste jokes as our walk comes to an end.

2b. I add my own “phrasing!” into a double entrendre packed sentence.

3. Blowing bubbles at each other in the bath.

4. Water biscuits with good butter and a slice of proper smoked cheese.

1. I wait with Lily. Her head tilts and her tail wags.

1b. Later, her tail wags happily – not fast, just contentedly – on the home stretch of the walk.

2. We have an impromptu cream tea.

3. I sit on the step and cuddle him until I’m thoroughly covered in fur.

1. A test tile in four delicious shades of turquoise.

2. Two Superman related things: first, a man in a Superman hoodie runs down the road with just enough energy to make me think he’s hurrying to someone’s aid. Second, a bad joke as we drive down “Cockin Lane”.

3. Beautiful harmonising their doos and dahs.

3b. The lights cast four shadows: guitar necks in reds, green and blue on the wall.

3c. Layers upon layers, built up on the loop peddle. Sometimes, it’s a mix of things including percussion on different items on the stage; other times, it’s just her voice. Each time is entrancing.

1. The deliveries come in a glut. We laugh each time the doorbell rings and Lily, who can just about hear the doorbell frequency, is desperate to be a part of things. The next time the doorbell rings, I hand her a package and she races downstairs with it in her mouth, proudly delivering it to John.

2. The clouds part just as I plan to go to the allotment.

2b. Pleasing rows for the leeks, and without counting, I make exactly the right amount of seedling holes.

2c. The sleek grey cat stalks around the plots, keeping an eye on his territory. When I’m leaving, I kneel to say hello but he stays at a distance: he’s a furry man on a mission.

3. Dinner has more of a round flavour than I thought it would – and includes tiny amounts of two crops harvested from the allotment. (Sugar snap peas and oregano.)

1. I enjoy tonguing an interesting memory and recall a funny detail I hadn’t thought about for quite some time.

2. John and I bump into each other when he’s on the way back from the barbers and I’m on the way to the allotment. We end our conversation with a sincere handshake.

3a. Mr Blackbird, our resident feathered friend, sees I’m digging. He has a bath in the upturned lid of the next plot’s waterbutt while he waits for me to finish: he’ll clear the bed of worms while I’m doing something else.

3b. The back bed has better soil than I’d thought so I take the opportunity to sow two rows of purple carrots in between where my bean frame will stand.

3c. I fill the last of the bed space (and greenhouse space) at the second plot. From here on in, it’s just weeding, pest control, and harvesting.