1. I go downstairs and Tom is there. He arrived with John, via Paul’s housewarming party, in the early hours of the morning, after I’d long gone to bed. Over breakfast, we discuss art history and laugh raucously.
2. Later, we get the bus into Leeds together. Under the snow, the first part of the journey feels even more like being in the middle of the country. Everywhere we look is a scene from a Christmas card – except for the racist propaganda stickers stuck on the adverts above the windows. They unpeel easily and we screw them up into little balls.
3. We say hasty goodbyes to Tom as he runs off the bus to meet a friend. Alone for the first time since in what feels like weeks (our illnesses were like unwelcome house guests before actual, more welcome, guests arrived), John and I have the afternoon together, indulging ourselves – lunch at Art’s, our beloved doughnuts & coffee for dessert, then drinks at North Bar. Good food but even better company. ;)
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.