Baby tip, historic homes and what I liked.

1. A lovely comment from Julia on this post about my beautician's take on night feeding. I can't wait to tell her that her thought has touched someone else as well as me!

2. We watch a historical documentary, At Home With The Georgians, in which Professor Amanda Vickery describes the origins of good taste and home-making using diaries and letters. One of the voices was particularly touching: a gauche bachelor of 24, writing in code, who was worried that his nerves would make him unable to get his future wife (he didn't marry until he was 43) pregnant.

3. Last thing at night, as we are falling asleep, we talk about our day: "I liked helping you with the dusting." "I liked the mashed swede." "I liked your sausage casserole." "I liked..."

Scarlet suit, pork and science fiction.

1. Katherine (who took our wedding pictures) brings us a beautiful scarlet snow suit to bundle our baby in.

2. The butcher was right -- we didn't need to do anything (except keep the joint dry) to get good crackling.

3. We watch Mark Gatiss' First Men in the Moon -- his naive Cavor was excellent, and I loved the schoolboyish glee at their first steps on the moon. I've also been having some fun getting my head round cavorite and its possible applications.

Enough, twist and Barbara Pym.

1. There is quite a lot of lemon curd left in the bottom of the bowl -- not enough to put in a jar; but enough to go on top of my yoghurt at lunchtime.

2. Downton Abbey -- we watched Sunday's episode, with its jaw-dropping I-did-not-see-that-coming plot twist.

3. I wish I could remember who suggested Barbara Pym's books -- I picked up Jane and Prudence and I think it's wonderful - a steely account of 1950s middle class match-making.. The quote on the cover is from Philip Larkin, who lays aside his curmudgeonly cynicism to say that he'd rather read a new Barbara Pym than a new Jane Austen. Lucky, lucky Barbara Pym.

Snooze, shorthand and addressing a duke.

1. It's Nick's first day back at work after his week off. He hits the snooze button and goes in late.

2. Reading back my shorthand.

3. I went to a lunch party for literary ladies on Monday, and everyone was full of the new Sunday night costume drama, Downton Abbey -- except me, because I hadn't seen it. Now that it's not football night, we can sit down to watch the scheming would-be heiresses and ambitious staff slug it out in a stunning country house. We are completely entranced. I felt bad about inflicting it on Nick; but he gets very caught up, and at the end he says the writer Julian Fellowes Got It Right because he is properly posh. "He knows how people would address a Duke."*


* Say the Duke of Westminster is your landlord. If by some chance he came round to collect the rent, you might want to show some deference and address him as "Your grace" -- "Sorry about all the sheets, your Grace. We could really do with a new washing machine. One with a condensing dryer."

If, however, he was just popping in for a coffee, you would be meeting him on equal terms, in which case, you call him "Duke". "Milk and sugar, Duke?"

Lie still, tea and booklovers.

1. These days, it doesn't pay to get up too quickly. I must be patient with myself -- and with Baby Badger. I like to lie in bed until 8.30am and watch (through the curtains that I have opened for reading light) the wind shaking the blue-grey gum tree across the car park.

2. With my mug of tea I get three ginger biscuits.

3. We watched BBC4's Among the Ruins, a documentary about British novelists between the wars. The series features rare footage of some of these towering names: E. M. Forster (who seemed like a charming, disarming dear), Graham Greene (who wouldn't show his face), Evelyn Waugh (who was breath-takingly rude); Barbara Cartland (who was just... Barbara Cartland) and Virginia Woolf. Check out 08:38, where Alan Bennett mocks the Bloomsbury set. I could have kissed him, because (this is very shaming to admit, and I know I'm letting the woman writer side down) my admiration for Virginia Woolf is very grudging.

Awake at dawn, bad dream and Sherlock.

1. One of my least favourite pregnancy symptoms is the constant peeing. From the start, I lost the ability to make it through the night -- they say it's preparation for the sleep-deprivation to come. The exact time varies -- but this morning, it was around dawn. The sky was shell pink and streaked with con trails, and I was glad that I had seen it.

2. About ten years ago, I had a back problem that caused pain in my hip. I dreamed that the pain was back, and that I was walking around an unfamiliar town trying to find a shop selling food for supper. The door was always round the next corner, down steps, along a beach, up some steps, under a bridge... Then I woke up, safe at home in bed, and there was no pain.

3. We've been really looking forward to Sherlock -- Mark Gattiss and Stephen Moffat's up-dated re-telling of Sherlock Holmes. I'm really fond of Mark Gattiss, and we know Stephen Moffat from Dr Who, but we felt a bit cautious. I have BBC drama series trust issues after Bonekickers (I know it was 2008, but it was THAT awful). However, it was great. I worked out whodunnit long before the detectives, which for me is an important part of crime drama, and there was a satisfying how- and whydunnit twist at the end. We both felt very welcomed because we recognised the Holmes references. "This is three-patch problem," says Sherlock (played by the lovely Benedict Cumberbatch) covering himself in nicotine plasters.

Sticky, evening in and stitch over.

1. To play around with white glue and scraps of paper.

2. Katie is home alone, so she comes round to have supper and watch Time Team with us (apparently she can't watch it at home without Jules commenting about how they've just thrown coins down the hole for the archaeologists to find). She brings a bunch of lilies of the valley -- they are a bit of a pest in her garden, but it's easy to forgive them for their sweet scent and lacy bells.

3. I'm loving Di Van Niekerk's ribbon embroidery -- if you make a mistake, stitch over it, because it all adds texture. I need to take some more pictures, as I've progressed a bit since this was taken.

Mystery book, Hell's Belles and archaeology.

1. We have both received emails from the library saying our reserved books are in, so we go down there together. The librarian tells me that they have a mystery book scheme on -- do I want to join in? Of course I do, so she hands me a mysterious bag. It contains Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow -- apparently all the books in the scheme have been chosen because they deserve to be better known. I enjoyed and was challenged by Bellow's Augie March, so I'm hoping Humboldt's Gift will  do the same. And if I don't like it? Well, I can always abandon it and take it back -- I didn't choose it, after all.

2. The other book I picked up at the library was the next Paul Magyrs book about Brenda and Effie, Hell's Belles!. Brenda is a large lady with an unusual past (she's escaping from it by running a b&b), and Effie is a witch in denial (she owns a junkshop). They live in the atmospheric Goth haven of Whitby, and they fight evil (particularly the malevolent Mrs Claus, who runs a perpetual Christmas at her cliff top hotel) -- it's a bit like Mma Ramotswe, but with monsters.


3. Time Team are digging up a rare Anglo Saxon hall. Two of the archaeologists are introduced to the joys of flyte, a ritualised insulting competition -- in this instance a sequence about shovels. Phil and Matt then spent the rest of the dig swapping jeers about their equipment (and if that made you snigger, you've got the basic idea of Anglo Saxon insults).

Change in the weather, The Simpsons and cooking asparagus.

1. The weather changes. Large drops of rain kick up that earthy smell.

2. I watch two episodes of The Simpsons one after the other.

3. Silver-grey bubbles form on the bottom of the asparagus pan. When I tip the water away, it is the green of a pond in high summer.

Busy-busy, expedition and the final wonder.

1. This morning, everyone wants a piece of me. I think this is what being a mother must feel like.

2. Rosey is off to the Arctic this weekend, and her worries put mine into perspective. Will a half litre bottle be large enough to pee into when she can't get out of her tent during a snow storm. Where is she going to find a black bra with no underwires in her weird size at short notice (she's not changing her clothes until June so a white bra will turn a distressing colour).

3. We watch the last Wonders of the Solar System -- Professor Brian Cox's final wonder is our civilisation. This put a big smile on my face. I fully admit that there are a lot of things wrong with what we are doing to the planet, but I do get tired of the way we run ourselves down. When you think about things like microchips, bicycles, chocolate biscuits, four-year crop rotation, neurology and German expressionist film, you have to admit that we have achieved an awful lot.

Down the hill, smoked salmon sandwich and end of the series.

1. To walk down the hill in the middle of a spring day without wearing a coat; and to see magnolia buds kindly waiting for the cherry blossom to have its day.

2. A sandwich made of soft white bread with smoked salmon and cucumber.

3. We watch the last episode of Lark Rise, and leave the characters happy in their own particular ways. There is a new season coming, and their lives will be turned upside down again, but at least they'll have a contented winter.

Interview booked, the great library and Katie's grandmother.

1.  Finally -- when time is running out -- the interview is booked.

2. We watch Bettany Hughes' Ancient World. It's an episode about Alexandria -- famous in the ancient world for its great library. She stands in the city's modern library and explains that today, as well as the books, there's a massive computer. "Every two or three days, it backs up the entire world wide web." And do you know what means? It means 3BT is (in an indirect way) in the Great Library of Alexandria.

3. I've just heard that Katie-who-I-used-to-live-with's grandmother has died. Katie has recorded the funeral tribute on her blog, and it's a fascinating read. Eileen was a journalist, and whenever our paths crossed, we would talk about that. And after I came back from the epic 2006 Africa trip, we'd talk about that, too. She'd spent many years living in some of the places we'd visited for a few days. When I told her about hearing the kindergarten in the incredible concrete church at Marangu, she corrected me firmly (she never pulled any punches!) -- "Cathedral. I remember that going up."

Spice Store, battle and the solar system.

I added three new 3BTers to the Roll of Honour -- all in Spanish. Estando en Babia, El w.c. de Eric, and Despiertos. I've been using Google Translate to get an idea of what they're saying. Muchas gracias por los tres cosas agradables.

1. To hear the shopkeeper discussing ingredients with the family ahead of me in the queue. He is opening a bag of fresh herbs and saying: "I've got some black vinegar downstairs, but it's very expensive."

2. While I work, I can hear Nick and his friend Nigel battling their forces up and down the kitchen table. At the end of the afternoon, they say rather ruefully that they spent most of the day stealing chickens from each other, rather actually engaging.

3. We watch the lovely, lovely Professor Brian Cox revealing the wonders of the solar system. I'm sort of aware of space and moons and eclipses and doesn't the sky look cool through binoculars. But as a result of a disturbing incident with a science book when I was five, I've never really bothered to understand it beyond what I needed to follow an episode of Star Trek. But when the Professor explains it, I really, really want to learn, even the numbers and the distances. He makes it seem like something wonderful he's found, but he's a bit shy about showing you.

Good spirits, washing line and light opera.

Here are my favourite 3BT posts for the week.

Lynn plays the glad game.
Penelope's daughter sees the joy in a banana.
Eyebee has something nice for breakfast.
Leonora fills her hands and empties her head.
Bag Lady will never be short of work.
Whitney takes a holiday.
Spring has come for Merope's dogs.
Louisa's new dog has her dancing to a different rhythm.
Sprite's birthday presents are handmade with love.
Confucian bells ring true for Plutarch, and a toad reminds him of national service.
Genny hears some satisfying gossip.
It's spring for lucky Joe in Vegas.

1. We visit Nick's parents, and find them in good spirits. When I write that, I feel like a historic diarist -- my whaler's wife, or Anne Hughes from Diary of a Farmer's Wife.

2. I like to bring bedding in off the line -- it always smells better than any detergent ever could. It's a cold smell that fills the vault of my head and makes me think of light and shadow.

3. We've recorded HMS Pinafore -- it's good, once in a while, to sing along with an opera, to make comments about the costumes and to stop the action for a pee break.

Birthday, coming home and badgers.

1. It's Nick's birthday. I make him wake up early so he can have his cards and presents, half-sitting, half-lying in a warm cloud of bedding.

2. Nick stops crunching up the drive to knock on the window. I've only got 20 more minutes of work.

3. One of his birthday presents was a DVD: Badgers - Secrets Of The Set. We sit together and watch amazing footage of our favourite animals. I particularly liked seeing them suck worms out of the ground, and the scratching montage.

Friends, pancakes and Murdoch.

1. With it being half term, there's been a lot of children's programmes on the radio. This morning, they played I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends by the White Stripes. Its one of those songs that puts a smile on my face and the effect is intensified when I hear it by chance.

2. We make pancakes -- it's Shrove Tuesday. With pancakes, the first few are always a mess, and then they start to come right. 

3. The first episode of the new season of Murdoch -- it's a detective series set in 19th century Toronto. Murdoch finds himself across the Atlantic in Bristol suffering from Amnesia -- and, more pressingly, two murderous pursuers.

Filing, brilliant and to boldly go.

1. Filing copy at the start of the day.

2. Paul Whitehouse's Brilliant Kid (see above) is a natural 3BTer.

3. Star Trek. When you need an episode of Star Trek to salve a disappointment, there is always one playing somewhere in the channel listing.

Greenwood, owl and someone else did it.

1. On the common, the smell of cut green wood where workmen are clearing the banks. It's a like a carpentry workshop, and a like a cold day.

2. There is so much to love about the Warner Brothers' short I Love to Singa -- the story of a little owl who dared to sing jazz against the wishes of his classically-trained parents. The mother owl's distress always puts a little lump in my throat, and then the cartoon hits me in the face with the 'No we didn't, lady" gag. If you've got eight minutes, give it a viewing.



3. Nick normally hauls the bins up to the road once a fortnight and grumbles about how he always has to do it. At 5pm, I hear the old rrrrollll-scrape of the recycling bins trundling up the drive, and think for a moment that Nick has come home early. He hasn't -- but when he does get in, he's very pleased at not having to do a chore he dislikes.

A dress, butterfly and back in time.

1. I like helping Katie to choose a dress for a wedding which we are both going to.

2. A butterfly -- a black shadow against the sky -- flicks in and out of existence.

3. I like watching Sue Perkins and Giles Coren in Supersizers Eat... This episode they are being Romans, and have to eat udders, ducks' tongues and testicles.

Great minds, it's raining and camera angle.

1. Tunbridge Wells blogger Inspiral Daze has written about the same willowherb stalks that I spotted on my walk.

2. You might think I've left the door open because I'm going in and out to the bin as I clean: but really it's because I want to hear the long hiss of the rain, and to feel the air moving.

3. The first of a new Bear Grylls series includes a shot of him from an angle that only his wife should ever see. It makes us snigger for the rest of the evening.