It’s Lily’s Gotcha Day today – five years to the day since she came to live with us. I didn’t think we’d get this far together, I’m glad we have. She got a can of tuna in return for momentarily wearing her Gotcha Day hat.

1. I spy the buds on the cherry-plum tree have begun to blossom and out in the propagator in the porch, tomato and aubergine seedlings are starting to appear.

2. Lily doesn’t need her feet cleaning when she comes home from her walk: is the mud season finally behind us?

3. Carrots, mange tout and red & yellow peppers makes for a colourful stir fry.

1. Assembling my new loom is ridiculously frustrating but a few nice things: everything individually wrapped in brown paper, the pleasing repetition of the rigid heddle, and the dull clunk of wooden warp board pegs in a bag.

2. Tilda crosses the run’s roof and rubs her neck against the ‘flagpole’.

3. The heat from the shower has caused a rash on my chest: I smile to see it looks like a perfect set of lungs.

4. P calls some colleagues “fellows”, which tickles me for some reason.

4b. We decide that #firstworldproblems doesn’t come close to describing the situation: #firstworldwhinywhitemaleproblems is more accurate.

1. Lily is getting too used to this: the pre-breakfast walk in the woods and in the snow. She’ll be glad to be home but she’ll miss this. (We will too.)

1b. After we’ve eaten our fill at breakfast again, bought our own supply of the hot smoked salmon from the conveniently timed delivery van and ‘checked out’, we go for one final walk through the woods. Lily goes into puppy mode, rolling in the snow and failing to find thrown snowballs. We coo and laugh.

2. We stop for a walk at Kielder but run out of path when the lake suddenly appears. Turning another way, flocks of little wild Christmas trees line the trail.

2b. It’s all so beautiful. I can’t describe how amazing it is. (As we’ve seen endlessly over the last few days) the roads follow streams sparkling in the sunshine, hills and houses in the distance catch our eye and John has to stop to photograph a particularly magnificent woodpile.

2c. We stop randomly to eat the pies bought the previous day. John points out a picturesque church in one direction, I point out llamas rolling on their backs in the other. We watch the odd creatures and laugh. (The pies are very good too. The mutton one especially.)

2d. I’ve never been to that part of the Dales before but I will return: it was magnificent. Snow clung onto the hillsides in white seams and everything glowed in the spring sun. As we reached the edge, we could see the mountains of the Lake District in the distance and we gave up trying to describe it because just wow.

2e. The best cake we’ve had in a long time courtesy of Tebay services. (And we had pretty excellent cake the previous day too.)

2f. The wind turbines seem sinister when they move slowly together – or maybe the intro to Rain Dogs is to blame.

2g. The (full) moon appears to our left, heavy and massive over the hills. I watch it grow brighter (in contrast to the sky) for the rest of the journey home.

2h. We’ve see an impossible number of sheep over the last few days – it’s what these hills areas do best – but two sets still make me giggle: the gamboling row of black faced lambs beyond Settle and the whole field of sheep, each tightly followed by two little ones, heading east for their dinner.

2i. Lily, who hates the car and will make all journeys as unpleasant for herself as possible, has unprecedentedly slept for a couple of hours. She’s in such a deep sleep that she doesn’t wake when we stop and I have to nudge her awake to tell her she’s home.

3. It takes Strange a moment of sleepy grumpiness before she realises we’re back then she accosts the dog for rubs and sniffs. Kaufman welcomes us back with a series of meows and a request for food (even though the dishes are full thanks to our lovely neighbours). Tilda though is missing. As the cat most likely to get trapped somewhere or frightened into running in the wrong direction, I can’t relax until I see her. My third round of calling outside brings a clatter in the dark above the woodstore and a little mew of delight. They are clingy for the rest of the evening and I cling back.

1. The thrum of bird wings throughout the morning. Busy birds working their feeders unconcerned by us.

1b. The piece of bark looks like leather to start but as it dries it looks more like metal then pitted clay.

1c. I leave John on the bench while I clean my teeth. It’s sunny yet there are pretty drifting flakes of snow and birds flutter all around. It’s hardly the worst place in the world to wait.

2. We passed a graveyard on our way here and stop to visit on our excursion today. It’s exposed and bitterly cold but we stop to read just about every stone.

2b. Back to Hawick again. Lunch at Turnbull’s: light snacks followed by rich cakes. Buying gloves and recommended pies. Finally a walk in the park and a dunk in the river for the bog dog. A lovely little town.

2c. The duck is pulled sideways by the current then dives.  We have no way to know where it’ll reappear and when it stays down for what feels like too long, we wait frozen until it reappears.

3. Even though it’s cloudy so our chances to gaze skyward are limited, Kielder Observatory is ace. The speakers combine a clear love and enthusiasm, with deep knowledge and the ability to convey the almost unfathomable.

3b. THE ROOM FRICKING MOVES.

3c. People get my bad, nearly 30 year old joke.

3d. They joke that all their tuck shop provisions are space themed: Mars bars, Milky Ways, Galaxy bars etc. This tickles me silly.

3e. The drive back – in the dark, in the snow – is sometimes scary but it’s also exhilarating, especially when the pair of deer dash across the road just metres in front of us.

3f. We’ve spent the evening in a different country to the dog. But when we get home, she’s been a good girl.

1. We wake up in a Christmas card. There are inches of snow on the ground all the distant trees dusted white. Lily joins me, wide eyed at the door.

1b. To draw back the curtain and see the feast laid out for us.

1c. We marvel at the busy stream and walk through the dense pine wood. The ground gives underfoot and everything is muffled. In a tiny clearing – just the space of a single missing tree –  snow flakes drift to the ground. I’ve run out of words to describe how beautiful everything is here.

2. Winding roads, green hills and all sorts of things glowing in the sunshine.

2b. Sure, there might be a castle and the ruins of am abbey but the best thing about Jedburgh as far as I’m concerned: cones of fine yarn for just £1 each at a charity shop. I buy some neutrals and a soft red but my favourite is a silky chenille in the most wonderful shade of turquoise.

2c. The journey is so much fun that we extend it, ending up in Hawick. John suddenly pulls over into a parking spot. It’s immediately in front of two charity shops. He knows me too well. I buy a new dress and a top, and two books and a shirt for him. A good haul.

2d. Back ‘home’, I walk Lily down the field so that she can have a wee. She rolls in the snow and each time she looks up her face is covered in white.

3. Feeling the hot air in my sinuses, my lungs. Lying back, it drapes over me.

3b. The cloud keeps breaking just enough for us to see the stars but the moon is too bright for it to be amazing. I’m almost glad when the clouds thicken and we can just relax.

1. The endless pretty villages. I tell John that is good job its overcast or it might be unbearably beautiful.

1b. “Look,” John says to make me look up from my map. Sudden huge hills rise up all around us. They look soft to the touch, not quite velvet but moleskin.

1c. A conveniently placed patch of green (for a dog wee), a chilled out bar, a nice meal and the best sticky toffee pudding we’ve had in years/ever.

1d. We enjoy the word ‘buttress’.

2. The landscape suddenly changes as we enter Scotland. Flat fields give way to hills and evergreens. It’s hard to concentrate on where we’re going.

2b. I get John to high five me in the woods — not a euphemism – I just deserve a high five for finding this place. Lily could not be more delighted either.

2c. I can’t describe how cosy it is – everything so soft and luxurious.

3. They were the big draw of this place – what set it apart – and they don’t disappoint. The sauna is a little too hot for our first session and the hot tub feels that way too but we quickly acclimatise to the heat. The second time around they’re both a perfect temperature. Afterwards, I slump on the sofa: my body hasn’t felt as relaxed in a long time – my muscles feel like jelly.

3b. Stars appear in patches between the clouds. The moon illuminates the snowy hills.

3c. I’m surprised how buoyant I am in the water. My boobs defy gravity for the first time in a long time and the rest of me joins them, floating inches above the seat.

3d. Pleasant pinprinks of drizzle on my face.