Dress, drink and catch-up.

1. Walking out of the theatre, I hold his hand so he's not tempted to bolt across the swirly carpet into the forest of legs. We agree that the best bit was the bit where the dame took off her dress to reveal another dress and another and another and then ANOTHER.

2. We don't fancy the noise and the crowds and the scuffling for seats in the pub. So we come home to share part of a bottle of red.

3. It's been busy. Packed with cushions and a thick red blanket, we catch up with The Dark is Rising on the BBC World Service by the soft light of a few days' worth of advent candle and the Christmas tree.

Northernmost point, out of the rain and blue fire.

1. An alarm goes off in Nick's pocket to let us know that it's the moment of the winter solstice.

2. The rain is falling in steady columns from a darkening sky, and we are no longer out in it.

3. We throw scraps of dark blue wrapping paper into the stove to see the flames change colour.

Lifting the dust, tape and stitch.

1. The vacuum cleaner lifts the dust and shines the surface of the floor.

2. The tacky circular sound that happens when I peel off a generous strip of washi tape for present wrapping. It's difficult to describe sounds, and even with recording technology, these workaday noises will one day be lost.

3. Each stitch, though small by itself, brings me closer.

Grounding, celery and lights.

1. I realise later -- much, much later -- that the lady in Lush handing me perfume samples was a very effective grounding exercise.

2. The crunchy feel of splitting sticks of leggy green winter celery.

3. Reaching under the tree to find the end of the Christmas lights.

Goldfinches, meeting and mackerel.

1. Goldfinches, painted like they're going to war, crowd the bird feeders.

2. We meet my cousin's partner for the first time, and it feels like she will fit right in.

3. I was pretty pleased to find the fishmonger selling whole smoked mackerel at the weekend. Now I strip off the oily skin, pick out the bones and break the meat into my pasta.

Ready for the tree, better fit and references.

1. While I catch up with the advent candle I begin to clean the sitting room ready for the tree. 

2. A smaller embroidery hoop came in the post. That's better.

3. I have to admit that this is not a joke I understand -- but hearing that is just as useful to her as the explanations of the references I do get but she does not.

Strategies, with other editors and purple tissue.

1. Soft voice from under his hoodie, telling me about Yahtzee strategies and tactics.

2. Lunch with coffee and editorial chatter -- we lay out our hopes and wants and needs for 2026.

3. She is very insistent that she's going to wrap my purchase in royal purple tissue -- even though I say there's no need as I'm not going far.