1. Strange sits in the chicken run – sits perfectly still and relatively out of the way but it still worries the chickens. I remove her from the run and after a quick hug, she forgets her grumpiness to roll around in the sunshine. The chickens seem to recognise that the soft, silly kitty isn’t the threat they worried she was.

2. I’ve neglected the glass greenhouse at the plot thus far but today I fill it with grow bags. It suddenly bursts into productive busy-ness.

2b. The warmth of the soil from the plants in the plastic greenhouse.

2c. Lily’s eyes widen as I remove the Bonio from my pocket.

3. I listen to the This American Life radio drama episode (recorded last year but repeated as this week’s episode) while I’m at the plot and enjoy it so much that when I get home, I buy the video of it to watch with John. When I see the movement, I’m amazed by the stamina of the performers and the songs stay in my head for an almost infuriatingly long time.

1. My toothache is very conveniently timed – starting just a few days before a scheduled check up. It’s just wisdom teeth playing up a bit, nothing serious, and the rest of the check up is fine: I thought it would be the year for my first filling but … nope!

1b. The pastries shine under the lights.

1c. We take a walk in our old park – the one I lived next to for nine years, eating sweets and making poor taste jokes.

1d. We look back at the old house and spot a cat in the bedroom window. I’m glad to see it: it’s such a good house for cats.

2. To finally fulfill a food craving I’ve had for a couple of weeks (even if the actual food isn’t that great).

3. Tilda curls up with Lily at the bottom of the bed.

1. I know it’s harder to clean windows in the sunshine but the rainbows in the sprintzed water are just about worth it.

2. For the second time in a few days, a Twitter exchange really tickles me – not only because it’s funny but with the confidence it is started and structured, so it builds in humour with (presumably predicted) interaction. It tickles me on many levels.

3. The proof will, of course, be in the pudding vegetables, but I’m really happy with how my allotment has been going over the last few weeks. I’m finally able to transplant everything I’ve been growing at home and my “decision” to plant stuff creatively rather than in monoculture rows has meant it looks interesting as well as providing more output from the space (well that’s the hope). Today I planted out the lettuces that will grow in the shade of my peas, and the beans which will provide nitrogen bursts for broccoli raab and swiss chard.

3b. A carrier bag had landed on my compost heap – I’d seen it yesterday and assumed it was rubbish thrown from the footapth – but today, a passerby gets my attention and tells me he threw it over: it’s filled with leek and onion sets, his spares. He said he’s rather someone use them than let them go to waste; I promise him they will be used.

3c. Three clouds in the same shape over the forthcoming train station.

4. I think Lily standing on the armchair is the cutest thing that’s happened in ages, until she sits down, facing the back of the chair, her tail wagging over the ages: cutest thing ever.

1. A day started with bacon butties can never be a bad day – especially when the bacon is perfectly (ie a little but not too much) crispy.

2. I raid my seed box for things I can sow now – I think I might be addicted to starting off seeds. (I plant a full tray of lettuce, as a follow-up crop for the stuff in the ground now, and some smaller trays of lovage (which has failed directly in the ground) and calabrese.)

2b. Made from scrap wood and not at all square, they’re a slapdash job compared to the ones of a few weeks ago but another two beds are ticked off my to-do list.

2c. I take a pile of canes and a rolls of coated chicken wire to the other plot, assuming I’ll come up with a plan as I go. By the time I’m finished, I have a U-shaped support with 30 pea plants around its edge, and in the middle, facing the southern sun, even blocks of colourful swiss chard and lollo rosso lettuce. I do hope it all grows – it’ll be very pretty as well as productive.

3. Lily rolls on her back, head off the sofa and tongue lolling, as M tickles her belly.

1. I should have been at a course but after a week of fighting illness, I decide I have to give in to it. I slump on the sofa instead and spend the afternoon thinking about things I’d like to do in the future.

1b. Lily joins me in the slumping.

2. Listening to music – Kathryn Williams, Bonnie Prince Billy, King Creosote – that I haven’t listened to in a little while.

3. John returns home with a curious thing – a variation on a drinking bird ornament. It’s impossible to not play with it.

1. Kaufman rolls on his back on my desk then accepts a very snuggly cuddle. Strange nibbles at the offered cat nip leaf then accepts a very snuggly cuddle too. Tilda gets her cuddles – a belly rub – on the bath mat, and even next door’s lovely kitty gets in on the action, with a tickle at the bottom of the steps near the greenhouse.

2. Grey clouds gather as I’m watering the allotment plots and as I lock the gate, it starts spitting – I’m only wearing a t-shirt, I have to walk the dog, I think I’m going to get drenched — but I don’t. And then the sun comes out again.

3. Being outside in the colourful garden on a lovely summer evening (even though it’s shady where the bbq is) invigorates us, and we all brim with fresh energy and good humour. The BBQ-ed chicken is very nice too (my banana experiments, not so much; though everyone eats their fill of marshmallows).

3b. S asks if Lily has run around the garden properly yet – and though we’ve been out there the whole time, she’s hasn’t, she’s hung close. He gees her up and they’re off, running across the grass together.

3c. We go off on one about toast.