Three Beautiful Things

1. I'm writing a huge website -- to see my word count going up hour by hour. 2. He keeps appearing with wire and plasticine and questions. 3. End of term: art is accumulating. While we listen to the Folk Show, I get up a ladder and stick it on the wall.

1. No matter what, there are always a few tomato side shoots that need pinching out. 2. She's on a school trip. From time to time, I check the family app to see where her dot is. 3. We've appreciated the cooler mornings, even with the gusty disruptive breeze pushing at the blinds -- but the afternoon air heavy and still and warm like bathwater is welcome too.

1. Through a gate, a glimpse of 1950s cars in bubblegum colours. 2. Poet Dan Culmer jumps on the bus and of course I wave him over like the shameless fan and ambitious writer that I am. I want to hear about how he supported the even starrier poetry celeb Brian Bilston. 3. One of her friends is moving schools -- to my old school, to be precise. And, I tell her, the school where a whole crocodile of her aunts and uncles (both blood and friendship) went. This is very startling and difficult to compute -- perhaps the first time that she has really understood us, with toddlers on our hips and jobs that keep us from fun days out with her, as year 8s and 9s. PS: Speaking of which, Nennis and Douglas, a bedtime stories YouTube Channel is run by an old school friend, and I would consider it a great personal favour if you would take a look, and listen to a story and like it; and even subscribe.

1. There's a terracotta brick building up town, baked until it shimmers, but somehow, tufts of wild yellow corydalis grow three storeys up, right out of the wall.  2. That was one hot bus ride -- but here's a cold glass of white wine and a shaded spot to drink it in while I wait. 3. 'Which bit that wasn't my bit did you like best?' she wants to know. And so we comb out our memories of the show in search of details we liked. I liked the huge self-satisfied smile on the face of a tiny girl who was thrown in the air; and the pair of dancers in red and white squeezing each other tight at the end The 30th , Billie Eilish's narrative song about a close relative surviving a car accident.

1. I arrive just as they reach the front of the queue, and there's still time to get my coffee order in. 2. In the woods, it's all shade -- a relief after the glaring stretches of shimmering pavement. 3. Nick has cooked, and we've eaten. Now I'm sitting in the warm garden with a drink that is just about still cold, carefully sharing pieces of incense with the dying barbecue.

1. After lunch, we nibble round the cones of Cornettos. 2. With air currents lifting the blinds, scampering through the hall, jostling on the stairs, and playing with the papers on my desk, the heat is doable. 3. At the end of the day, I lie with my legs up the wall, Radio 4's very lightest offering playing on my phone, against feet swollen by the heat and a lot of editing work.