1. John chewing his food is not a beautiful thing. Especially when he is pointing at the half-chewed food in his open mouth and indicating that he and it are beautiful things. No, no.
2. I’ve unintentionally forgotten to visit two of my favourite web comics for a few weeks so have a stash of unread strips waiting for me today.
3. Tails in the air, they bounce single-file through the dining room door to welcome their dad home from the pub.
1. Boron has inserted himself between us while we slept so when I wake up, he’s under the duvet, with his head resting on my pillow next to mine. We stay there for at least an hour until John wakes up and he purrs a deep, satisfied purr the whole time.
2. We decide to finally implement something we’ve been talking about for a couple of months – we go to the RSPCA to see about adopting a dog. We meet two boys who have lived with cats before and we’re encouraged to play with them and walk with them. As John walks away with the second dog, I tell the handler that I think John looks good with a dog at his side.
3. We head into Bradford city centre for lunch and some charity shopping. It’s been a while since we’ve been there on foot – certainly the first time since we moved to a BD postcode, but probably a couple of years before that even. On the way up to Oxfam, we notice that the nature of the city starts to change after Duke St: the big-name chains gives way to smaller, independent shops, and it feels like a first time visit to a small town instead of a familiar city.
4. The sound check runs late so we have to eat quickly – it’s a shame to gobble such lovely food. The soup starts out neat and orderly, all the additional ingredients in their own part of the bowl and enjoyed individually, but as I eat, it all gets mixed together and a fuller flavour is revealed.
5. Kev writes my name in the condensation on the window and as the evening proceeds, the letters streak until all that is left are vertical drip lines down the pane. Above, the red light turns the dull gold window frame into a surreal ruby.
1. Three reds in the pan – both the vermilion peppers and dark maroon kidney beans stand out against the rich tomato sauce.
2. Even though I’m scared of the semi-dark (thanks to a lifetime of why-won’t-the-light-switch-work nightmares), showers without the light on are strangely soothing.
3. Carbon meows excitedly after he returns from a brief, rare excursion to the outside world. He runs between us showing off how cold he is, before settling on a blanket to warm up again.
1. The toast is evenly brown and perfectly crisp. The pate is strongly flavoured but delicious, and stirs in me the desire to make my own. I add it onto my “things to make” list.
2. Throughout the day, all the cats visit me at my desk. They sit on my knee between my body and the table, and purr as I stroke their soft-soft chests while I work.
3. The water plunks when it hits the growing body of water in the cup but plinks! (with an exclamation mark) when it hits the edge.
4. Katherine and I watch dogs parading (in Best in Show) and eat Jaffa cakes, while Joe murmurs over the baby monitor.
1. We push the plates and cutlery aside and spread out the paper. We scribble as we talk excitedly and by the end of the meal, we have a plan.
2. We know we’ve hit a certain age, a certain sensibility, when we stare at a shower cubicle in Homebase with such adoration.
3. The cats and I stomp around in the last of the snow, heading into the woods. By the time we turn back, we hear John splitting wood so take a detour – the cats through the holly tree, me up the slippery slope around it – to join him.
1. We wake up to a world even whiter than before. Even the tiniest branches are covered with inches of snow. It looks so cold but under our giant duvet together, we’re blissfully warm.
2. I’ve been worrying about the old house for a couple of days – we hadn’t been back to check on it since the cold spell really got going and I’ve been troubled by images of burst pipes, flooded rooms and arguments with insurance companies. We take a break from work to drive over mid-afternoon and everything is fine – in fact, it actually feels warm in the house even though there has been no heating for weeks. I become giddy as my anxiety floats away.
3. I return from neighbourhood cat feeding duties covered in white fur from furtive hugs – the feline equivalent of lipstick on my collar.
© 2024 Louisa Parry