1. The different whites that catch my eye from the kitchen window: the blossom on the tree, the hard frost on the ground and the stream from a plane against the blue sky.

2. The ISS nearly crashes against the bright half moon – but in the end it *just* misses it. Phew.

3. I mishear John, and think he’s said a flat “YOLO” under his breath to something incredibly mundane. It makes me laugh so much that he wishes he had said it.

1. I try core spinning – the result is pretty in its variety but I struggle with overtwisting the core. I drop back to basic spinning instead: creating a thin single in shades that remind me of a scorched summer landscape.

2. I’m such a fan of people celebrating their own funnies in an understated manner. The silent lift of a hand for a high five or a fist for a bump while the conversation continues, or a low ‘boom’ slotted into the sentence without losing pace.

3. John chargrills the courgette slices until they’re sweet and lined.

1. Simple folds and basic stitches and suddenly we have a book.

2. Colours: my mustard tunic and olive cardigan. My red boots and the warm tones in my scarf. The bold turquoise and the slightly muted cerise photo albums. The cleaned yellow stone and warm brown boots. Finally, the giraffe of many colours that we bring home and place on the pear green wall.

3. We realise just in time that we could add some milkshakes to our order. They’re thick and delicious.

3b. Before the film becomes too much for my tired, fragile brain, it’s curiously intriguing.

We said goodbye to Lily today. It was heartbreaking but it was time.

1. We stroke her head. The white stripe was the softest, silkiest thing in the whole world.

(Autocorrect just changed ‘silkiest’ to ‘silliest’ — it was that too.)

2. The clean chunks of Yorkshire stone that we unearth as we dig.

3. We become clingy – and so do the cats. They sit with us, on Lily’s spot, all evening and all join us when we go up to bed.

1. More digging, more prep for spring. John’s dad arrives with dustbins of wood chippings which fresh and warm – they look almost clean compared to the old chippings brown on the ground.

1b. A woman is passing with a dog – I say hello to the latter as much as the former. It turns out that she had my newer allotment plot before me: I tell her all the things that have changed with the site and thank her the good soil. She says she’s glad to see someone is using it.

2. I’m glad I’m home – just got home – when things suddenly take a turn for the worst.

3. The sound of the beck calms us.

1. John’s dad joins me at the allotment to make plans for fences and benches. After he leaves, I prepare beds for spring: they look so neat in their black blankets.

2. Kaufman accidentally swallows one of Lily’s Tramadol and spends the day as high as a kite. His eyes turn an inky black from dilation and he gazes around the room without rest. He is clearly ill at ease but he finds stroking very enjoyable and purrs echo around the room.

3. Stripping back words – it only takes the removal of a few to improve the whole section of the tone.