1. I make the most of the limited sunshine by going to the allotment. I’ve not been for a couple of weeks – it’s not stopped raining for long enough in daylight to go – but I’m pleased to see it’s not doing too badly: waterlogged but otherwise faring well. I work for a couple of hours – taking down the last of the pea & bean supports, pruning back fruit bushes & removing the dead leaves from the strawberry plants and finally digging over half of one of my long beds & cheekily sowing some spare broad beans seeds (it’s a little late for overwintering them but it’s so mild that I thought it was worth it). It’s clearly a rest period for the plots but by the time I go home for lunch, they look a little neater.

1b. Decanting water from one barrel to the more sheltered one. Something about it scratches a thirty year old memory – of playing at the water table on a hot day in infant school.

1c. Breaking up a coir block with minimal water: it flakes into rich brown fibres as I scrape at the surface.

1d. T-shirt weather for digging on the shortest day of the year.

2. Lunch is very pale but not bland: the turkey has a rich flavour, as does the cheese, and the toast is almost nutty in its browner spots.

1. Lily goes from annoyingly het-up to snoring loudly within about thirty seconds.

2. There are other things on the plate but as far as my tastebuds are concerned, the only things of note are the lamb, cauliflower cheese and the mint sauce. Yum.

3. I finish the body of a corner-to-corner mini blanket for the cats. Working corner-to-corner is a perfect pattern for me – it’s starts off quickly and once you’re over the halfway hump, it gathers pace again row by row.

1. We meet up together twice – first we’re behind him in the queue then at the next store, it’s vice versa. He’s terribly noticeable: tall – dwarfing John let alone me – and wearing a green tweed waistcoat & jacket. It’s an affected but fun look, and I enjoy that he doesn’t feel the need to disguise his size, to fit in more.

2. I pick up my new glasses. They fit on the arms perfectly without adjustments and I don’t have usual blurriness as my eyes adjust to the new lens. Over the evening, I also enjoy the matte finish to the frames as I push them up my nose.

3. The pan fills up as I add more and more vegetables and beans. I’d planned to serve it with a mash but when it comes to it, I realise it’s more of a hearty stew, served in a bowl with just crusty bread to mop up the sauce.

1. I have a dream we have twelve or thirteen cats and kittens. Best dream ever.

2. I step out to watch the ISS pass overhead and the sky is so clear that it makes me want to stay outside. I first fetch the binoculars and then set up the telescope. I see clusters of stars appear from the seeming darkness and admire the bright texture of the moon.

2b. It’s strangely hard to find the moon with the scope (since we’ve lost the alignment checking whatsit) and I have to search around the sky for it – then the lens suddenly brightens and voila.

3. Spices around chunks of chicken & paneer. It’s pleasantly intense.

1. I enjoy the geometric pattern on the reflective strip.

2. I get pulled into a neverending conversation with the man at the wool stall. Some of it is boring, just nod-along stuff but he also tells me about various bits about the different wool suppliers he works with. I know some things he doesn’t – the big local mill shop going into bankruptcy, how companies are working online – and it’s interesting seeing a different perspective on things too.

3. M has discovered the power (and humour) in both sarcasm and doing slightly odd things. Looking through the paper, she finds a giant crossword puzzle and – since her granny is making a salad with them behind us – decides to try to write the word ‘avocado’ in every word space. Sometimes only ‘avoc’ fits, sometimes it’s ‘avocad’ but eventually she reaches a seven spot and calls out in triumph.

1. I scored some bargain mochaware salt and pepper pots on eBay – I’m going to use them as essential oil diffusers. They arrive today and not only are the mochaware “trees” interesting, the whole pots are delightful – a teardrop shape that begs to be held, the marbling on the slip and the smoothness of the glaze.

2. Chatting with our neighbours on the way back from the dog walk. R from next door shows us pictures of the house they’re going to buy and K says they’ll probably be moving in a year or so too. We’ll probably follow not afterwards, possibly looking at the same area as them, and we joke about how funny it would be if we all ended up neighbours again. I really wouldn’t mind: we couldn’t really wish for better ones.

3. A misheard word – ‘shed’ instead of ‘shared’ – sparks five minutes of jokes and laughter.

3b. I gloat a touch too much but everyone agrees it was a stellar comeback: I have lost every single round up til then – barely even spotting the paths let alone being the first to do so – and both J & S are well on their way to winning, then suddenly I win five out of the six last rounds to steal victory.