1. A going-stale baguette inspires both our lunch plans and a rap to explain said plans to John. It rhymes “to say” with “today”, and “salami” with “tummy”. It is *Q*U*A*L*I*T*Y*. (It was this “good”, though this is just a tribute: “Q, to the U, to the A, L I T, Y my rhymes are ace, they are quality”.)

2. Kaufman comes into the office and meows a quiet hello. As it’s the first time I’ve seen him today, I tell him that wasn’t good enough and on cue, he meows again, louder.

3. The smell of the rain floats in through the window.

3b. Packing away our winter socks.

1. Our garden is usually very sheltered, particularly near the house, but today the breeze whips around me as I hang out the washing in the sun. Above the chemical scent of the washing powder, I catch more natural aromas – the garlic from the woods, light perfumes from early flowers and the smell of the sunshine – warm skin, warm stone.

1b. Baskets full of warm dry washing.

1c. It’s too hot to read in the sun for too long – when I transfer to the shady step, Blacksy the chicken hops down to investigate my drink. Strange sits nearby in the half shade of the heuchera leaves and Tilda minkles past us all on her way into the woods.

2. I’m busy at the sink so the chicken turns golden brown before I can stir it. The smell – chicken, garlic and cumin – makes me drool.

3. I am rarely succinct but I do like a well placed, standalone “dude.” when the situation calls for it.

1. The sun – and the pending plot inspection – has brought everyone down to the allotments. This means I do nearly as much talking as weeding but I still get a lot of the latter done. I must pull up about a hundred dandelions (a good portion of which I bring home for the chickens).

1b. To uncover things I’d forgotten planting (the onions at the top of Plot 12) and to free the strawberries from the clutter of bittercress and grass – the plants had looked rather pathetic over the winter but now they’re green and strong.

1c. I have to work in the shade – it’s too hot in the sun. I think how much has changed in a week: last weekend, we were in long johns, woolly hats and gloves at Kielder but today I’m baking in just a vest top.

1d. When I close the greenhouse for the evening, the lettuce seedlings stand out to me – they must have grown more than a centimetre, nearly an inch, over the day.

2. The sunny day has brought people down to the pub as well. John sings two songs: he’s nervous and flubs a few lines but I’m probably the only one who notices.

3. Under the guidance of my new style guru (my friend K’s six year old son), I paint my nails on one foot in a rich orange and the other in turquoise blue. I take a photo to show him and discover that a negative filter perfectly swaps the colours.

1. I remember how well designed Mario Maker is as a game: how it drip feeds new tiles and modes, the pleasant sounds evoking the item, and the level demolition using a rocket launcher.

2. The cats are in the coop and the chickens are in the garden.

2b. We go for a walk around the woods – a walk John and I haven’t done for a month or so. In that time, trees have fallen, mud has dried and the wild garlic has carpeted the beck’s banks.

2c. Just as everyone is getting tired, we find the geocache. No one else can remember finding it before but I hunt through the papers until I spot our names – a list, ending with “and Lily the dog” visited this spot in March 2013.

2d. The constant whoosh of cars along the Ring Road.

3. Our Saturday nights often involve a fair amount of computer related farce but this one is a classic: too small USB keys, incompatibilities, write permission errors, too slow wireless, too short wires, and finally the discovery that the wire we’re using wasn’t spare after all. We laugh.

3b. N-cat has really grown in confidence since we last saw him. He’s no longer the fraidy cat skulking down the corridor and instead sits at our feet and accepts tickles with joy. I prophesise that next time we visit, he’ll be sleeping on O’s face.

1. Clearing the floorspace makes the whole room look much tidier. If I turn my back to the huge amount of crap piled up (albeit quite neatly) under the sloping roof, the room looks rather respectable for once. The bedding is also freshly clean, with just a hint of lavender and rosewood.

1b. Yesterday the paint smelled like school; today, dry, covering A2 sheets and in a stack, it looks like school as well. Considering I didn’t like art at school, this still manages to conjure up a vague happiness – possibly because it evokes memories from before art was art, when it was just drawing, painting and having fun.

2. Everyone wants to see – but not get too close to – the chickens.

2b. The clack of Lego.

3. He picks up the controls very quickly and is soon jumping up and down as he beats John round after round (and John isn’t really going easy on him at all).

3b. I dance a goofy Louisa-dance while they watch me through the night vision lens.

3c. After we’ve read through the book twice (once looking at the pictures in the book, once looking at them in his mind), I read my history magazine while waiting for him to go to sleep. The pages crunch and scrape loudly when I turn them so I force myself to read slowly so I don’t need to turn them so often.

1. The poster paint smells like school, the too bright colours swirl together before blending.

1b. I paint some boxes to look like Minecraft blocks: something about the 3d makes them look ace.

2. I’m just saying how sad it is that Lily can’t take part in #dogsatpollingstations this year when we round the corner and see a huge fat black cat. My squealing doesn’t scare it away and we enjoy a good stroke. On the way out from voting, someone else is enjoying her but we crouch down as well and she parades herself for tickles and photos.

3. A slice of my favourite chocolate truffle cake, with the lovely crumbly base.