1. To have an excuse to play with some design work: it’s such a delight when an idea goes from clunky to slick with just a slight move a curve.

2. Tilda wants a pick-up-hug. This is a rare thing (she’s not generally a fan of being held) so I take the time to tickle her, tickle her good, even though it makes us a bit late.

3. Ikea chocolate biscuits (the crispy ones with the dark chocolate in the middle).

1. I’m dancing on the side of the road, unable to cross the constant stream. This bus driver stops anyway.

2. Carving lines in leather hard clay.

2b. Through a combination of spraying and patience, the slabs become workable again. The planters finally come together.

3. The unreal green grass in the woods.

3b. Stark paths cut into the leaf mould by the weekend’s rain.

1. After last week’s washouts (literally), I expose the images for a good long time. I’m rewarded with a rich royal blue.

1b. Company while I work: first, two wappy black cats then later, a calm helper.

2. The currant bushes droop lower and lower as their crop plumps out.

3. Lily dashes around the garden as fast as we’ve seen her run for a while. She loves O’s garden: it’s flat and grassy and, thanks to visiting foxes and cats, must smell great.

1. I pick up my somewhat neglected memory map sewing project and stitch pathways and ponds.

2. John’s lovely pasta sauce on tasty al dente spaghetti.

3. Every evening, whether we’re at home or elsewhere, we lock Lily out of the room and hide a Bonio for her to find by scent alone. Our hiding places grow more elaborate but she always finds it surprisingly quickly. This evening, she stands on the fireside chair pawing at the shopping bag, tail wagging and wagging.

4. As I’m overseeing Lily’s pre-bedtime pee, I hear a squeak I’ve not heard for some months: like clockwork, the bats are back.

1. We sit together and eat our pastries. Around us, the small garden is full of interesting plants, all just about to reach their full potential.

2. To be stretched, ever so gently, out of my comfort zone. I make some pieces that feel like “art” rather than “craft”.

2b. The sea-green slip and the bright turquoise blue underglaze.

2c. I discover I’m capable of a new level of precision.

3. John pauses mid-sentence – his passion for describing a horrendous miscarriage of justice is momentarily put aside to gasp at the amazing brownie.

3b. I burp the cheese’s smokiness for hours; I must get my smoker out and start making our own again.

1. I lift down three of my pots and the tutor gives (what seems to be) a genuine gasp of praise from across the room. They’re not perfect by any means but I see them as progress in general and in a new technique & style specifically.

1b. I always think of hollowing out sculptural pieces as a chore but find it strangely enjoyable and addictive when I get started. Two of my meeple, my Minoan bull and my Etruscan-inspired horse all end up considerably lighter by the time I’m done.

2. Very guilty pleasure: a pop tart as a tea-time snack.

3. Two perfect little seedlings: perfectly curved fat baby leaves on top of short, but strong, stems.