1. We have builders in the house – fixing the leak from Friday amongst other things – but I’m not feeling up to chatting to people. I’m grateful that I can disappear into the garden and that our house has different doors on different levels so that I can make exits and avoid certain passages when necessary.

1b. Lily is a little overwhelmed by the people clearly only here to see her and so doesn’t notice another one arrive: John’s dad, her Pop-pops. I lead her out to see him and she circles him, tail wagging, holding a shoe: the traditional springer welcome dance.

2. I watch Blacksy the chicken building herself a nest behind the blackcurrant bushes and pass her leaves and twigs to use in its construction. A little while later, I spy an egg in the undergrowth.

3. I’m a bit heavy handed and suspect the irises will suffer this year because of it, and everything has to spread out a bit before they look properly finished, but otherwise I’m happy with refreshed planters in the front garden. It’s nearly all perennials now too.

1. Alien lupin buds and ruby cluster flowers that look like cheaply spray painted beads until they start to unfurl.

2. The stick breaks at the perfect time.

2b. The cats watch us in the park – we see four in all, climbing over the walls and up onto the low sloped roof. Their mum clearly loves them – and it’s not hard to see why. At the end, just as we’re about to go, I *almost* get to cuddle one of them but Z’s ferocious sneeze scares it away.

2c. From in the park and on the paths around the back, I spy into the allotment plots. It’s a *much* bigger site than mine – ten times the size at least – so there is a good deal of variety. There is some comfort seeing shabby plots – they make me feel like I’m making decent progress in mine – but I prefer well maintained ones because there are invariably ideas to steal. I spy tree trunk slices for path ways, a herb tower and a homemade greenhouse.

2d. Little J leads Lily to the door.

3. Slow cooked pork. It’s a little dry because we were out longer than we’d thought but the vegetables are soft and succulent enough to compensate.

1. (With permission), I salvage some wood from our neighbour’s to-be-bonfire stash: enough to edge a bed at the allotment, and start on a Lily-containment fence too.

2. I change shampoo – I don’t think this one will be as good for my hair overall but while I’m in the ‘new shampoo’ window, my hair feels amazingly soft and I’m enveloped with a lovely fresh smell whenever I shift my head.

2b. I have a realisation about something that I’ve been beating myself up about — no, that’s too strong, something that’s been niggling my self esteem/social anxiety lobe for a while. The details are unimportant but I’d been blaming myself for something that I now realise was absolutely not my responsibility. I take a mental sigh both in relief and in frustration that I’ve been bothered by a mistake for so long.

3. I’ve been in a foul mood all day/for the last 48 hours and I almost don’t want to go, but I do and I have a lovely time with my friends.

3b. Lily enjoys the garden in short bursts of hyperactivity. S takes her out for one of them and we watch him running around the grass with her.

Ugh.

0. Small mercies: nasty Farage didn’t get his way and Galloway was ousted from Bradford West. We agree with many of the latter’s political positions but he’s such an odious bully that it’s not worth it: he’s damaged this city on both political and human levels.

1. The chickens purr a series of clucks as they hoover up the leftover rice.

2. Our own leftovers turned into comfort food. (It’s a day for comfort food and comfort music.)

3. In the evening, it rains harder than it has in ages, adding a flooded porch to our frustrations for the day. I try to find positives: the water butts at my allotment should be full now and our waterproof jackets are truly tested for the first time and pass – our jeans and dog may be utterly soaked but our top halves are dry.

1. Lily keeps me company at the allotment – perpetually sunbathing in the weedy spot I want to cut down. Sometimes I give in and just hug her instead of working.

1b. Cutting back the weeds makes all the intended plants look healthier and more distinct.

2. The longest queues I’ve ever seen at a polling station – and the woman at the desk tells me it’s been like that all day. I *almost* don’t care for whom people vote, as long as they vote. (*Almost*)

2b. We’ve been discussing it for weeks, going back and forth through the different options. In the end, by the time we’re entering the cubbies to make our marks, we’re confident in our choices and can vote with a clear conscience. No matter what happens, I’ll be glad about that.

3. The thin layers of sweet chocolatey buttercream.

1. Lily runs around the room like a little puppy, chasing the new chew bone.

1b. Later, upstairs, I offer her an older bone. She disappears from the room and I hear her plodding down the stairs. The next time I look up from my sewing, she is back on the sofa, looking smug, the new chew in her paws.

2. The two beagles, dressed in identical jackets, strain at the lead to meet Lily.

3. Without the overwhelming pepperoni, the other flavours stand out much more.

3b. We’re listing stereotypical things that men are supposed to do. He suggests “do DIY” but John and I both hear “doody” and laugh.