1. At five days old, the ginger beer plant is satisfactorily gloopy and the sourdough starter smells divine.
2. Even though the general backstage consensus is that Thursday night was better, John is impressed by the show – the music, the costumes and the kids alike. I clap like a proud mum throughout.
3. Sleepy Lily droops in John’s arms as he carries her to the car.
1. The new floor reflects the light around the soon-to-be-decorated walls. I imagine how bright it will be when we’re finally finished: I can’t wait to work down there.
2. Her tail hits the water in a rapid beat.
3. The wool is tangled. It’s such fun to undo the knot.
4. Backstage, we mouth along the words to most of the songs but it’s only the last one that we join in the dance – the surge of joy that it’s very nearly over for another night.
I’d planned to spend all Saturday deep in the world of make, inspired by Do Stuff‘s Lee’s 24 hour #makealong. But since it was a gorgeous sunny day, we ended up going on a lovely walk with Team Slater (around the Chevin in Otley) and had to pick up a new-used swing set from Huddersfield and I didn’t get to start making until 9pm. Still though, I made:
Still on the list to make this weekend (although I’m not really sure where I’ll find the time):
Wish I’d had more time to do more exciting things – next time, next time :)
1. I wake up just before dawn to the sound of some low half-barks – Lily getting excited in her sleep. She’s still in her bed so I go to her to soothe her. Next time I wake up, perhaps an hour or so later, she’s lying in between us, on her back with her paws in the air, Carla is sat on my chest purring and Boron is fast asleep on my head. The best way to wake up.
2. On the bus, my ears and brain are distracted by a lecture on human pre-history, my hands and eyes by granny squares.
3. After a difficult rehearsal, I need cake. Lots of cake. Then I spot it – a fancy, expensive cake reduced to clear for just 99p.
1. The dusting of snow each night erases footprints like an etch-a-sketch.
2. For the first time in a few weeks, I write out a decent to-do list and use it as a project tracker throughout the day. The sense of accomplishment at the end of the day is wonderful.
3. I tip out the bag of buttons onto the bed sheet and pick through them to find the perfect three.
0. (From last night) I always cast on too tightly, making the first row of knitting on circular needles a right pain in the arse. By comparison, the second row at the correct tension is a joy and I happily, mindlessly, knit two, purl two until the item is finished.
1. After nearly a decade in a north-facing house, the cats love that the bedroom and living room in the new house are sunny in the mornings. Even in December, the sun streaming through the window is warm enough to make them toasty to the touch. We make sure there are comfortable places to sit to make up for their years of gloominess.
2. After a lunch of manchego cheese and Iberico ham (again, our holiday lives on in the food we carried back with us), we discuss genes and memes, fire and water.
3. John’s ill so we decided on comfort food for tea: fish and chips from the great place at the end of the road. The vinegar sizzles as it hits the straight-from-the-fryer fish and the woman serving remarks that she somehow got some salt in her mouth. We joke about how she must have been throwing it everywhere for that to happen, and she adds: “I’m pretending it’s snowing. I can’t wait until it’s snowing.”
© 2024 Louisa Parry