1. I wombled the little table in 1998 and it was very useful back then, but John’s been wanting to get rid of it for a decade. We’d had a conversation about it only the day before and it had been agreed that it could stay “for now”. I didn’t realise though that a couple of years of living in the garden had reduced its sturdiness until I stand on it to reach the washing line: it slowly deflates under me with a clatter. John’s head pops up in the office window like a meerkat and he lets out the loudest belly laugh. I’m laughing too.
2. Folding the freshly-washed bedding together in the warm evening air.
3. The stretch on the skin as I manipulate my stiff toes.
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