1. A tidied desk, a swept floor and spider plants relieved of their brown leaves: the office looks so much better.

2. Feeding the cat treats through the cat flap.

2b. Lily and Strange stretch out together on the patio in the sun.

3. Some colours:

i) A touch of green eyeliner: it makes my eyes look bluer.
ii) The sweet-spicy sauce is a rich vermilion.
iii) Blood red embossed … wallpaper? I don’t know what it is but it makes me want to touch it. (So I do.)
iv) An indigo stripe on a repurposed Japanese tea cup.

4. We finish our dinner a little early so stroll around the city – it’s after 7 but the shops are still open and everyone is in good cheer, enjoying the light evening.

4b. We’re so close to the front and the lectern is so big that it almost swallows David Sedaris. At times, much of the time actually, I can only see his head. He looks like a wooden barrel-chested robot.

1. I become a dahlia planting production line – within no time at all, all the pots are filled with soil and potential.

1b. Strange walks along the wall – not along the top but about halfway up where the stones jut out a little. Living up to her name once again.

1c. The cats explore the greenhouse for the first time and take turns to … fertilise my raised bed with little splashes of nitrogen-rich liquid.

1d. Later, I look up from a cuddle with Tilda to see we’re being watched: the ginger cat sits on the wall and blinks at me.

2. The sweet dog sleeps.

3. “Watch where you’re going,” the dad tells his son. The boy, perhaps three, is distracted by Lily and not paying attention to his cycling, which seems to be a very new skill. His feet fall from the pedals and he wobbles dangerously. He needs a supporting hand and a bit of a push to get going again.

Ten minutes or so later, as they make the return journey from the fish’n’chip shop, the dad’s warning has changed: “don’t go too far, don’t go too fast, remember you have brakes.” He doesn’t need any help any more.

1. Tilda watches “Cat TV” (the view through the cat flap) and when Strange enters the frame, climbing the steps to the kitchen, Tilda ducks to the side. A head pushes through the flap and get swiped with a playful paw.

2. After some faffing when I first arrive at pottery, I finally settle and do good work. It isn’t at all as I’d planned but it is nice to be building fun things again – and my carving goes surprisingly well.

2b. G liberates some little cakes from the kitchen and brings them in for us. We have dirty, clay-coated hands so she feeds them to us. We’re giggling so much we can hardly chew.

3. Three nice – good quality – tops from a charity shop. And my eBay jeans fit perfectly too.

4. To not know what will happen – and to be amused by hand gestures, barbs and all sorts of contrasts along the way.

1. Slabs of brie and a ramekin of prawn cocktail, with seeded brown bread.

2. The spaniel throws a stick at me – he doesn’t politely drop it at my feet but makes a demand by throwing it at me from across the path. It’s what humans are for.

2b. We crocodile along the tiny stream: it turns from clear to muddy under our boots.

3. Lily’s anxiety fades away when she gets a cuddle from John. Later, Strange wakes, moves about six inches to her right then curls up in a tight ball against John’s leg.

4. The slow expansion of knots. The space remaining gradually gets smaller and smaller. (Then there is about another 2000 required on the other side of the piece.)

1. Our most pressing chores are finished quickly and we can spend the rest of the day in Westeros (and Slavers Bay).

2. I hold up squares from last month’s sampler to find the perfect fill stitch and it makes me want to make my own reference book of threads and stitches (printed books and online resources just don’t offer the same tactility).

2b. I decide on french knots even though it’ll take thousands to fill the small space. Progress is slow but pleasant, and the resulting deep texture is a perfect contrast to the simple, flat design.

3. The strongest rainbow I’ve seen in a long time (and a fainter one a little way beyond it). Surprised bird chattering once the downpour stops. The beck gushing in its quick response.

3b. The milk slowly turns lemon as the yolk breaks up.

1. About five years ago, our car stereo was stolen and we’ve never bothered to replace it. Our journeys happen to a soundtrack of debates and skits. There is a political discussion (specifically about Eich and ESR) as we sit in traffic going across the city but later it’s sillier – how Bradford City might be playing my old primary school (since the colours are the same), about the ominous storage tanks near White Abbey Rd and about the 4×4 that happily mounts curbs but avoids speed bumps.

1b. Lily is grumbling because she can’t sit on a chair. Her granny passes me a towel, which I spread out on the seat a split second before a grateful Lily takes her place.

1c. I love it when dogs use cushions as pillows.

2. Even though we’re already seated with menus, we decide to change restaurants. A few minutes later, we’re sat in another place with new menus and we’re sure it’s right this time.

2b. The fish pakora is cooked perfectly: a spicy orange crust around flakes of white. Later, sweet lamb held in fluffy bread, a little marinaded onion and a dip of sauce.

3. I watch the cats watching the little quadcopter. Later, I dangle a piece of string while we chat and Tilda jumps to and fro.