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Veg box, Monopoly and flight of fancy.

1. There is a lot of sensory joy in the veg box -- the thud of radishes bobbing in the washing bowl; ripping scruffy husks from corn cobs; slicing carrots and cucumbers into sticks for the salad box; squeezing cooked baby beetroots out of their skins. 2. Pete brings his own homemade Monopoly set and it's a stunner -- unique, handcrafted and thoughtfully built to a Le Mans theme with the finest artwork early 2000s clipart CDs can offer. It's very nostalgic, and with his own added context, much more interesting than some of the official sets we've been playing. 3. A sky engine noise catches my attention during the game and I'm on my feet to look outside before I know what I'm doing. It's a paraglider, and with the yellow-gold moon rising, it seems reasonable to agree with Tim that it's probably a Jules Verne character off on a lunar adventure.

At coffee time, new suit and crumble.

1. Just as we pour coffee, my brother, newly landed, taps at the door. 2. Rather shy, he appears by my desk in his new school suit.  3. On the top of the crumble, a glossy patch of leaking blackberry juice.

Corn, hearing the rain and another sit com.

1. Slicing corn off a cob is very satisfying. 2. A neighbour asks if I heard the rain last night -- I missed it, but the air and the light are different now. 3. We watch Ann Droid and laugh with no reservations at all, because we think we know these people, and the themes of family duty and usefulness matter to us.

Sparrows, nests and crackling.

1. A flock of sparrows is having a stand-up row somewhere beyond our back wall. 2. The fridge, I see, is full of chocolate crispy nests, each with a clutch of two or three mini eggs. 3. There is a piece of crackling to snip up and crunch on. Nick is very pleased with the pork shoulder he has roasted for tacos.

Newly trimmed, processing and read along.

1. Her little smile as the hairdresser comes round with the mirror -- that alone is worth the cost of the haircut. 2. Warm evening -- streets and pub gardens are full of A-level students processing results day. 3. I join another gathering to read aloud The Earth Charter -- this time a mix of campaigners and poets in a pub, all with different ideas about how a public event might work. We read it, and then it's time to talk about taking it to a wider audience. They comment self-consciously that they are  mostly middle-aged white men, and the discussion is robust with a fair amount of interrupting and apologising for interrupting. I dive right in, because talking about the charter feels as good as reading it and internalising it. 

Celestial, pinhole and falling stars.

1. Of course the eclipse! All day there's the news, and my messaging app is pinging with pictures and plans and hopes. I even love the traffic jam on Ashdown Forest and the difficulty we have parking, and the crowds of people on deckchairs and picnic rugs, laid open to wonder amid the grazed gorse.  2. Affluent and affable in linen, they are leaning on a gate with pinhole in a Glyndebourne programme card saying they thought they'd be the only ones up here. We admire their tiny sun image and give them a lend of our eclipse glasses. 3. Each one of us has seen a meteor falling across the sky this night -- but the long tailed shooting star that we all see together is the most wonderful of all.

Routine, sweetcorn and sash window.

1. I feel very pleased this morning to be exercising lit by sunlight and cooled by a draught coming through the open window. 2. Stripping off dark green husks from the year's first fresh sweetcorn. 3. The satisfying sound of a sash window closing against the cooling night air.