1. I walk to the allotment in the midday sun then hang out done more washing on the baking patio. Afterwards I’m reminded once again how much I love our cool house.

2. I destroy our joint equal best score at our silly addiction.

3. I hear meowing while I’m on the phone to my mum in the garden and poke my head over the fence thinking I’ll see the new little kitten at the neighbour’s cat flap. Instead I see Strange, locked in their house. A text message later and she’s released: she dashes into the garden then back up to our office with a tale to tell.

4. With the heat finally on the wane, I go to the allotment again after dinner. I fill my tubs with berries and currants to turn into jams and jellies – if John doesn’t eat them all first.

1. The caraway seeds are a little overwhelming but if you let them be the star of the show,> the bread is quite delicious. I eat too much of it.

2. Our neighbour is in the garden when I go out to finish up. Had I heard they’ve got a new addition? He asks – yes, I’d literally heard – I’d been whimpering over pained meows through the wall before lunch. It’s much smaller than I’d thought – I’d been told to expect a young cat but he’s still a kitten. I cradle him in my arms and very much want to steal him.

2b. I show John the greenhouse now that everything is in final positions. I’m happy with how much I’ve squeezed in the small space.

3. The brush of Lily’s wagging tail against my bare leg.

1. The shade of the old abbey, respite from the sun.

1b. The slowest dog in the whole world.

1c. I take off my top (once we’re back home) and feel instantly refreshed.

2. I start carving a new bed into the path – two patches for now, I’ll do the rest in the winter. The first patch is deceptively easy to dig.

2b. John comes to gather a harvest: a tub full of strawberries and raspberries, and a small bag of sugar snap peas.

3. Strange is delightful: rolling around, clutching her head then air padding with velvet paws. She makes John giggle.

1. I’m amazed how the floppy scratty lettuces have pulled together: they all look perky and real.

1b. The cauliflower plugs fill the last of my main bed space across both the plots. There are still some tiny patches (and some new perennial spots) to fill but I take a moment to enjoy the achievement.

2. Lily knows that someone – someone with a dog – is at the door and she wants to say hello. I know the other dog is a shy old lady too so it’s a good match: tails wag and sniffing happens but no one gets in each other’s face.

3. S introduces me to a new game by thrusting his phone into my hands. Within minutes, I’ve got it on my own phone and a new – hopefully brief – addiction is started.

3b. There is a lightness to the evening that feels like it’s been missing recently. We laugh a lot.

3c. John’s the only one in trousers: the rest of us are in summer mode, in shorts and skirts.

1. Lily’s in a playful mood – though a lazy one. She’ll only catch the ball if she can stay sat in the same spot. Later though, she runs around while John squeaks her dotty toy.

2. I like it when Lily seems to be wonderfully well behaved – she is pretty well behaved but sometimes I can anticipated her likely re/actions in a situation and if I play it right, it looks like I directed her.

3. I discover how to laugh like an evil ventriloquist’s dummy and it amuses us greatly.

1. After a day of boring serious letter writing, I get lost in history again. I listen to old music and relive snapshots of distant times. My head doesn’t feel right afterwards – I can’t pull myself all the way back to the present day straightaway.

2. I ask Lily which way she wants to go. She seems to consider the different routes (but is really distracted by birds and dogs in the distance) before picking a favourite path.

3. My dinner rapidly goes from delivery junk food to whatever I can find in the fridge to actually a pretty decent, proper meal.