1. My glass of water is the good kind of cold.

1b. The soft light of morning.

1c. A trio of ducks visit – do they want a cup of tea too? I open the bedroom curtains just as one of them walks along the side of the boat. A few minutes later, a boat passes with a man feeding a duck on its bow.

1d. A bird of prey catches its breakfast as we make ours.

2. The sailboats are pretty – but stress inducing – as we come through Horning.

2b. Traditional houses in black and thatch, stylish new additions and ever so cute ones in pastel shades.

3. To find another quiet haven. (This time, Salhouse Broad.)

3b. A walk through the edge of the village in the sunshine; a change of plan when we find somewhere that meets our needs – they have good local meat and will even makes us sandwiches.

3c. John has a decent flat white and an “artisanal tropical donut’ at a post office in a small village. My lemon cake is also good.

3d. A watchful heron.

3e. The collective sigh of relief when the hen party boats leave the broad.

3f. With a water standpipe nearby, we both take the opportunity to have showers – it’s a better experience than we thought it would be.

4. The pub is a good way up the road (again, it feels quicker coming back) but it’s a lovely spring evening so we enjoy the walk.

4b. Good – if not brilliant – food and free wife distracts us from our games.

4c. We surprise a duck on the way back to the boat.

4d. Spared from traffic and chugging engines for a few hours, the broad becomes glassily still.

1. The other boats disappear while we’re having breakfast so we can take our time to practise again and again. We both have hard skills to learn.

1b. A family of ducks swims by in our path. A swan plays chicken with us then turns and follows in our wake. Swifts dive and swirl all around us.

1c. A pretty village and decrepit mills.

2. We pull up at How Hill for lunch. I make friends with a pair of sweet ducks and a swan barges into the conversation too.

2b. We pass under our first bridge without incident.

2c. A watchful heron, geese and a gosling, a lake that’s not on the maps.

3. We miss the last place at Ranworth by a couple of minutes, so we head back to the Bure and pull up at an unserviced mooring down from St Benedict’s Church in Horning. We reason that we’re free to stay overnight and settle in – a swan swims over for a tithe and geese nosey around too.

3b. Reading on the stern just before sunset.

3c. Home-cooked pasta sauce, hundreds of miles from home.

3d. As sunset falls, the river grows increasingly silent. Fish splash about and geese fly over towards their roosts.

3e. The party boat is ridiculously big, loud and garish – but on its return (when we hear its music for an unfeasibly long time), its colourful lights makes pretty streaks in the black water.

3f. The Martian is the perfect book for this holiday.

1. A peacock lords himself over a collection of tractors. “Mine,” we voice with a mimed wingspan.

1b. John kinda wants to go to the diner so we do and it’s kinda good. The people are friendly, the food is mediocre but comforting and I score some power for my phone.

1c. John makes the mistake of asking about soil, and gets a lecture on top soil, humus and mineral content for the next half hour. I think it’s fairly informative but accept it’s probably not my most scintillating subject matter.

1c. We pass a place called Catfield. I want to go to there.

2. A proud dad shoes us the ropes (literally).

2b. It’s cheap and cheerful but also better than we’d thought – the bed is long enough and the sofa good enough for lazing.

2c. Stress levels are high but two lovely people help pull us into a mooring space.

3. The walk to Neatishead feels farther than I’d thought because I worry we’re going the wrong way but it’s oh so quiet and pretty.

3b. The pub is very nice – modern and monied. A timid teddybear of a dog comes by. A man eats a chip off the floor. We move to the snug – and it is snug: I sit in a very grand chair and nearly fall asleep. We laugh out of tiredness over dinner – which is very good.

3c. The walk back to the boat in the dark goes quickly and waiting below the sign pointing us home sits a friendly, half-tailed ginger cat. As soon as I see her, I switch off my torch and beckon her over – she comes running.

3d. The bed is as cosy as the snug.

For a few different reasons – mostly an annoying digestive issue & being busy – I didn’t write up full “three beautiful things” for these days.

1. (Wed) I go to a new hairdresser – the new owner of the salon just around the corner from our house – and though I poorly communicate my desires, I end up with a haircut that I don’t hate. This is about as good as it gets for a haircut of mine. (I do feel haunted by the scent of her hair products all day.)

2. (Thurs) I get caught up cleaning odd, unimportant spaces but it’s nice to be able to tick them off my spring cleaning list all the same.

2b. (Wed) Systematically working along the grout lines with a toothbrush is strangely pleasing.

3. (Thurs) When I cross to the sink and look up, both the deer and I double-take. They usually stay beyond the elder tree, rather than approaching the house but this one is nibbling the grass near the pear tree just a few metres from the kitchen window. It lingers for a good while and we marvel at its confidence. I very much enjoy the bright white tuft on its bum.

1. The perfect image for the cover of my travel notebook. In the end I mess it up by trying to include too many pages but it’ll do – and hopefully all the space will stop me being precious with it.

2. I make very flat beef, hummus and crisp wrap sandwiches. A single chocolate button afterwards combines strangely well with all the flavours.

3. Kaufman demands a ridiculous amount of attention from John.