1. Everything’s ready so we’re relaxed and get away in good time. Most unusual for us!

1b. Clear roads and clear skies.

1c. A simple but surprisingly nice lunch. Lily politely accepts the offered biscuit from the landlady.

1d. We walk around what would have been the moat (as if it needed it, with the river on both sides) and when we see that they allow dogs inside, we stroll around the inner and outer keep making Game of Thrones jokes and imagining what is must have been like to live there in its heyday(s).

1e. Barter Books. It’s a mystery to why we have not been there before: a huge secondhand bookshop that allows dogs inside and has both roaring fires and a café selling wonderful cake. We buy an armful of bargains and eat our fill. We also see a range of springers in the waiting room: from a little puppy in arms, to an excitable yearling to our sleepy old lady, snoozing under a bench.

2. We get out of the car. The only sound is bird song. The incredibly friendly people at the pub.

2b. The cottage is lovely – Lily runs through to the garden and I follow. We’re so used to cute but cramped fishermen’s cottages nestled into the rockface in Staithes that we’d forgotten that other places have space to stretch.

2c. I ask Lily if she’d like to go for a short walk and she leaps up: explore! explore! She pulls me down the road to the sheltered shore. I watch the sun set over the mainland, blown away by the stillness and the beauty. Looking south, I can hear strange moaning coming from the islands beyond: I assume it’s birds chatting noisily as dusk falls and am amazed that the sound travels so far. (I’m even more amazed when I discover the next day that the specks I could see on the beach, the noise makers, were not birds after all but seals).

3. The night sky, filled with stars. We see the ISS and satellites, the moons and rings of Jupiter, the colour difference between red and blue stars, and bats and owls. If we’d not been so tired, we’d have stayed out all night.

1. Whenever I open the run door, the chickens dash out at an almost equally speed to the cats running in.

1b. Greedy Blacksy follows me at a waddling run as I approach the coop: I have been known to provide treats and she doesn’t want to miss out.

1c. I’m really only in there to check on everything but I can’t resist sowing another tray of peas.

2. Quantifying our needs and packing accordingly.

3. Leftovers stretched into an easy dinner.

1. A first day of a new course and we learn a new technique. I play further with my leftover pieces and make surprisingly interesting shapes.

1b. G tells me that a local charity shop has done a house clearance for a yarn hoarder and there are lots of goodies to be had. She isn’t wrong. I’m glad there is a cash machine over the road.

2. John is just putting on his shoes when I get home. We have just enough time to hug before he has to go.

3. The smell of slow roasting chicken gradually fills the house.

1. Sweet Tilda has a conversation with next door’s sweet little cat. It risks becoming angry but the tension disappears with some tickles on both their heads.

2. The short window between the path being too muddy and too overgrown.

2b. We reach the end of the walk but after a quick stop at home for a dog to have a drink, we head back out again to the allotment. Between bad weather and a bad head, I’ve not visited for a week and even though I won’t have time to do much, I want to check it’s all ok: it is. My fruit bushes have suddenly acquired greenery, more long sown seeds are making themselves known and the overwintered alliums are growing fatter. (On the downside, the weeds and grassy paths are springing to live too: I’ll have to do a serious cutback of everything next week.)

2c. There is some communal pine needle compost to use so I spread it on my blueberry bed (they’ll enjoy its acidity) and over the weed suppressant around the sage. It smells great when I’m working with it, and it’s warm as I dig the pile.

2d. It’s lovely (but, admittedly, a bit intimidating) to see the progress in the newly salvaged allotments – my own plots look disorganised in comparison. I’m also amazed at the size and vitality of the seedlings sheltered at the side of the polytunnel. When I reach home though, I see my squash seedlings have visibly grown since this morning and oh look, two cucumber seedlings have popped up this afternoon too.

3. Looking skyward, we miss the ISS (our house was in the way) but we see the Dragon rocket, with its solar array, then through the binoculars, I see some of Jupiter’s moons and through the telescope, I see two shooting stars near Vega.

1. I buy a little pot of crab pâté for lunch – it’s subtle but a lovely change.

2. We look at birds through the new binoculars – the chickens hadn’t looked that magnified but the crows at the top of the silver birch are surprisingly clear. We laugh about how fingers in front of the lens disappear.

3. I love wrapping the big blanket around me like a shawl.

0. Lily creeps up the bed to be spooned as we’re going to sleep and though she goes back to the foot of the bed during the night, she returns for further spooning as we wake up.

1. The bread from the Italian deli makes for the best bacon butties we’ve had in a long time.

2. A tired, lazy day is a cat-filled day – Strange and Kaufman spoon with me when I’m lying down (then Strange plonks herself in my lap just before bedtime) but most specially, Tilda snuggles into my legs as I crochet. A Tilda cuddle on the sofa is always a rare treat.

3. Lacking the energy to do anything else, we rewatching the very first episodes of Game of Thrones to see how it’s changed – and to see what has paid off.