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Winter coat, before the film and exhibition we didn't get to.

1. Winter coat: still fits, is still warm. 2. In the shuffling calm before Pearl and Dean fanfare, the man in the row in front of us is quietly sketching the man in the row in front of him. 3. We are full of talk about the film -- a presentation of an art exhibition that we didn't get to. From Whistler's fascination with the Thames, to the sulky face on Miss Cecily Alexander (100% justified, I felt) to the absurd peacock room and the artist's feud with the banker who commissioned it.

First fog, leftovers and within the garden.

1. A fog bank rolls across the other side of town and then burns off in the space of twenty minutes. 2. For lunch there is a mound of pearl barley and tender pieces of the slow roast venison left over from Sunday supper. 3. To stand enclosed by garden walls and stare up at a darkening sky that is both blue and orange.

Gloves, candle light and tears.

1. This time I remember to wear my gardening gloves, and avoid the worst of the sticky sap. The jasmine is looking smaller and tidier; and the compost bin is much fuller. 2. The little flames of my new autumn pinecone candles reflected in the mirror. 3. It is hard to tell, at the end of Ann Droid , the exact nature of these tears. 

Pie, Traitors and falling water.

1. And today our supper is a food tech pie.  2. We watch Traitors and tangle our legs on the sofa, each filling in the other's knowledge gaps about the contestants. 3. I fall asleep to the sound of his bath running.

Begin again, free coffee and brightener.

1. I retrieve my dusty weights and yoga bricks and start again with my exercise routine after a week of being unwell. I've definitely lost ground, but I've improved my strength before, so presumably I can do it again. 2. I mute most notifications on my phone -- but one gets through to say I've filled my stamp card and am entitled to a free coffee. 3. A half-hour video call catch-up with a few writers and editors is a great brightener before the afternoon.

Summer dress, flint and Thai green curry.

1. It's warm enough today that I put on a summer dress and forget where I've left my slippers. 2. My hand strays to the smooth planes of the worked flint that I keep on my desk. Connected again. 3. We eat for supper what she has made in food tech -- Thai green curry, bright and fresh and wakes-you-up -- and are very impressed. We hope that she will make another one for us soon. She thinks it's too spicy, but isn't that almost always the way with a Thai green curry.

Coffee break, socials and clear picture.

1. A break with coffee and buttered toast with golden syrup. 2. I send a few photos to a friend, remembering a fun weekend at the Isle of Wight Festival when we were all much younger and smoother. It is rather pleasing to see she's shared them on her Insta that very afternoon. 3. I test a new webcam before a meeting tomorrow and wonder at the clear picture.