Shop move, identical and caves.

1. Our international food shop has moved into a new, larger building. I am very relieved that it smells exactly the same -- a mix of basmati rice from the huge sacks by the door, and every kind of spice.

2. She is rather cross because the white sandals she'd found in the children's department were not a good fit. Happily for us, the women's department has an identical design in a larger size.

3. 'What is this?' she wants to know about the podcast I'm listening to. Within a few minutes we are doing a feasibility study into a visit to Royston Cave.

Shut in, three quick strokes and event.

1. I'm with the glossy white-haired ladies in hot pink and emerald green and china blue linen waiting for the department store to open its doors. The shop floor is as still as a stage set and I feel like I'm swimming among handbags because the atmosphere is so thick from the waiting. The PA announcement 'The store is now open' shakes the shut-in air and everything begins to move freely.

2. I have a quick dip in the bag of cosmetics that my friend has passed on for my daughter, and try out a nail polish. Three quick strokes on each nail, and a little stillness while it dries. It won't last 24 hours; but I miss the days when painting your nails didn't involve an appointment up town, and then another appointment a week later to have it taken off.

3. We've got a chat going for an event that is causing both anxiety and anticipation, and it helps a lot, taking the edge off the former and buffing up the latter.

Fruit box week, reels and repair.

1. Somehow the delivery of a fruit box is much more fun than the delivery of a box with vegetables.

2. I love the sound of all my cotton reels rolling to and fro as I lift the miniature chest of drawers down from the shelf. Nick's dad salvaged it from a flooded shop, and it's provided a lifetime supply of thread for two generations.

3. It's late and the light is not great, but I'm putting stitches as small as I can manage into a much-loved pair of pyjamas so they'll last a little longer.

Succession, fizzy water and sofa.

1. Her tomato plants are finished, but a vine with tiny spiked cucumbers reaches over the path.

2. I hadn't realised how thirsty I was until I took the first sip of my drink.

3. To sit on the sofa with our youngest between us.

Steaming, cold and drawn away.

1. After a night of long rain, the common gently steams.

2. The air seems very cold on my skin after the run of heatwave days; but walking and talking warms me up.

3. I have to stand on tiptoes to watch the black and yellow bodies bundling over the spoonful of jam I put on the back wall to draw them away from the open windows. 

Bees, tortoise shell and catching our attention.

1. Up and down the street lavender bushes are smutted black with bumble bees.

2. A tortoise shell butterfly is hanging around in the sunshine by the back door. 

3. Large painted creatures -- owls, snails and hares -- have popped up on the streets we walk most days. The bright, unfamiliar colours and the larger-than-life scale keep snagging on our gaze.

Start of the heat, finishing early and lights out.

1. It's not too long after 8am and I can already feel the heat in the air as I begin my walk on the common. My body responds to the warmth and the exercise by giving a little.

2. There are lots of tiny things I can do to make the hot weather more bearable -- and one of them is knocking off early.

3. As always, our radio hour is interrupted -- she would like Nick to go down and turn off her light.

Rind, clink and treat.

1. Loving the green on green stripes of the watermelon rind.

2. As I go up the stairs, I can hear from his room the clinking of a spoon in a glass yoghurt jar.

3. I enjoy an evening of beer and silliness with the Gluten-free Trio -- just what I need to mark the delivery of a novel edit and the start of the heatwave.

Space, box of cherries and reading aloud.

 1. I have done my errands and there is still half an hour to go -- writing time.

2. He is returned to us with his camera bag and a box of glossy black cherries.

3. We sit in bed and I read to her from a book we've both been looking forward to.

Dull, after the rain and prepping.

1. I slap the full water butt to enjoy the dull thump.

2. My herbs have doubled in size in the rain, which seems to have nourished them in a way my watering never can.

3. There's a heatwave expected, so we make a supermarket order of hot weather treats to make it easier to bear.

Cleaner than before, line dancing and downpour.

1. This has been frustrating, but the windows are now at least cleaner than they were.

2. There is country and western music on the Pantiles. Three serious children in cowboy boots are line-dancing in front of the bandstand.

3. Watching the rain sheeting across the car park, and hearing it hissing off the roof into my water butt.

Artificial silk, phone call and aphelion.

1. To drift around in leggings and a very loose top made from polyester silk.

2. A quick catch-up on the phone adds some healthy texture to this day of frantic typing.

3. My alarm goes off reminding me about an astronomical happening: the sun is at aphelion. We can't observe it; it's after sunset, and anyway, distance from the sun is not perceptible by tiny folks like us standing on the planet's surface (we're interested in the celestial goings-on, but not interested enough to take measurements six months apart and spoil our eyes looking directly at the sun). But it's nice to know the moment, anyway.

Magnolia, pagoda and station.

1. Late magnolias -- always a pleasure.

2. We like everything about the pagoda -- including the long climb to the top -- but particularly the green and gold dragons on the roofs and the automata models on the ground floor. We turn handles to bring models made from pieces of tin tea caddies to jerky tick-tock life, depicting the trip to Guangzhou that inspired the architect, and the building of the pagoda.

3. A parade of shops and cafes, shaded by London Planes, crowds around Kew Gardens Station, curious and a little deferential.

Book, volunteers and shower.

1. I spot that he's brought along the copy of Puck of Pook's Hill that I left in his room a month or so ago. 

2. Everywhere, there are ladies in yellow T-shirt emblazoned with 'Here to help'.

3. Late at night, as the air cools, the patter of rain -- just a few drops, but there's always the promise of more.

Watering cans, eating alone and settling down.

1. The grounding weight of my watering cans.

2. Our schedules mean that I eat supper alone in the peaceable, silent kitchen.

3. Now the children have gone to bed and it's darker and a little cooler, I can focus on writing one of the four articles I should have completed today.