1. There is a fair bit of storm damage at the allotment – most notably, a fence is down and broken the veg growing alongside it and my plastic greenhouse is in pieces on another plot. But the glass greenhouse there (and the one at home) are intact, and so is the shed & the shelter, and aside from one snapped perennial cauliflower, all the fruit and other perennials are fine too. Really, all in all, things could have been worse.

1b. The little teddy bear of a terrier in the long grass. Later, a delicate little sprocker shies away from Lily, but then, when they realise they’re both timid ladies, they inch together to sniff noses.

2. Tilda and Strange keep me company as I clean the bathroom.

3. A lazy joke provokes a big laugh.

1. The weather is bad so the cats stay close. Tilda gets overexcited during our morning cuddle. Strange sleeps in odd places. And Kaufman lets me manhandle his fur while he sits on my desk.

2. Lily tries to sneak upstairs very, very quietly. She acts surprised when I bust her.

3. The smell of the raw butternut squash and how gold it glows in the oven.

1. I wake up feeling fresh and ready for action.

2. Lily and John playing together on the sofa.

3. I hear a cat in the kitchen and get up to check whether or not is the interloper again. When I turn on the light, Kaufman instantly scrunches his eyes and spits out the food in his mouth. I laugh.

We go over to Manchester to see Admiral Fallow. I find his heels endearing again.

1. A quick dinner turns into a five course Chinese banquet. We eat too much and it takes so long that we miss the support act – but it’s good: not the best we’ve ever had but subtler and includes more interesting flavours than we’ve had in a long time.

1b. As we walk from the restaurant to the venue, John tries a character voice for the first time. We both, in unison, declare it to be very good but one which he should never do again.

2. The bar has just one can of Dr Pepper left but that’s all I need.

2b. We decide to sit down at the back, but it’s a small venue so we can still see everything clearly. I watch a finger getting tired as it plays a single repetitive note for half a song and across the stage, other hands dancing over another keyboard. Filling out the sense, I pick out the sound of the flute, the clarinet and the barely there vocals, and I hear – no, feel – the three man drum beat as the song reaches its finale.

3. We’re happily walking back to the car when we both stop in our tracks. It’s not just any gelato bar but the same garish pink mini-chain that we frequent in Bradford. It would be rude not to stop by.

1. John makes us burgers for lunch. Yum.

2. Lily’s back fur soaks up the rain – it doesn’t look that way but when I touch her, I’m surprised by how wet she is. The same thing happens with E-dog, who we meet on the way home.

2b. When Lily has a shower, it’s like we wash off the old dog and are left with a puppy again. She wriggles and grunts – with an excited tail wagging – while I towel dry her, then she takes off, bouncing down the stairs, to show off her clean fluff.

3. Their new house is just a tiny bit bigger than their last one (which was immediately next door) but it makes all the difference. It already feels like a home.

1. The old cat walks down the path and meows at me. After a head tickle, she walks me back to her garden gate then meows again. I lift her up onto the wall so she doesn’t have to jump up herself.

2. We go out for lunch. I have a deliciously fresh fillet of hake with chorizo and prawns but I envy John’s hearty wintery pie. Lily sleeps under the bench, tucked out of the way.

3. A bit of insight has ruined a beloved old film but we still enjoy it because we make each other laugh instead.