Sense of scale, treasure house and checking the colour.

1. We pass boys in blazers walking home from the grammar school. The first years are tiny under their huge rucksacks. Then I look at Alec in his pram and they seem like giants.

2. On a grey day of blurry rain, the bright fresh colours of fruit and vegetables in the cavernous green grocers are very appealing.

3. While I am feeding Alec, Nick brings my cake in so I can see if it is properly browned.

4. There was a romanesco cauliflower in our veggie box. We spend some time after supper admiring its mathematical spirals and pinnacles.

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Late riser, greeting and my work.

1. I get up before Alec and do a few chores before he wakes.

2. While pushing the pram round the park I am smiling so much at the thought of Alec that a boy on a scooter smiles back and says hallo.

3. I realise that there is nothing of Alec that has not come out of me -- 50 per cent of his genetic material, vitamin K and Infacol notwithstanding.

Touch, nappyload and walking in puddles.

1. A lady with a white stick comes into the waiting room. The other patient and the receptionist tell her about Alec. "Oh I wish I could see you better," she says, and comments on his hair. I offer her his head to stroke, which she likes very much.

2. The osteopath says Alec is a lovely patient. This is after our little boy filled his nappy twice during the appointment. The second was so fulsome that the receptionist had to bring us a basin of water.

3. A girl on her way home from school walks carefully and deliberately through two puddles.

Man of letters, helping finger and improved flavour.

1. A card comes from Nick's sister, niece and great nephews. Dylan, who is just about to start school, has embellished the envelope with pencilled letters, diligently copied from our address.

2. The health visitor encourages us to help Alec's wind by giving him a finger to suck between meals. We'd already been doing that, but didn't want to admit it in case it was the wrong thing to do.

3. A mouthful of dark chocolate -- according to Fenella it will make my milk taste better for Alec.

Transmission, assistance and party.

1. The first thing Nick says when I wake up is that when I sleep snuggled up behind him, he can feel Baby Badger moving against his back. I'm amazed to discover that BB can kick that strongly and not wake me up, and pleased to think that the two of them get some time alone together.

2. Katie has put a call out for bulb planting assistance -- so I go round and spend a few hours in her sunny back garden -- in return, I get lunch and two slices of chocolate cake.

3. There is a children's party going on in the hall across the hill. Little voices roar out cheesy pop music -- "Hey-ay-ay baby, will you be my girl?" and laugh at the DJ's jokes. A few brave souls get up to sing: "Twinkle twinkle little star" and from one rebel: "Happy birthday to you, stick your head down the loo..."

Pipe tobacco, coming down and dessert.

1. A man smoking a pipe walks past the top of the road. When I come to turn left, I can still smell his burnt sugar tobacco.

2. The children come down to see what this dinner party is about, and you can see their parents' expressions and manners flickering in their faces.

3. Warm, dark brownies (two squares are missing from the tin) and ice cream.

Be happy, first day of school and The Shipping News.

1. As always, he tells me to be good. I tell him it will be a tall order. And very seriously, he says: "Well be happy then."

2. As I start work, a mother and two little boys in school uniform come out of the footpath at the corner of the car park.

3. The Shipping News by E Annie Proulx -- one of my favourite novels ever. It's a story of redemption in an unforgiving climate. Finding books in our house is all about serendipity, and I am very glad to have spotted this lying on a heap of role-playing fanzines.

Waiting, it's over and I'm having a bath.

I've just discovered Tangible Joy has been 3BTing. I like her rebellion against Starbucksification; and also her appreciation for her job.

1.  In the doctor's waiting room, two small boys (with what looks like the last of chickenpox) wait with their mother. One of them shows off his counting (he does very well, but then goes straight from 29 to 99) and the other plays "give me five... you're too slow" with his mum. He tries to distract her by telling her there's a spider on the ceiling. They make me smile; and I catch the eye of another lady who is also smiling.

2. I go for a smear test -- the nurse is kind and chatty, and it's over so quickly that I hardly realise it's happened.

3. The washing up is done, and Nick has baseball to watch. I squeeze one third of a bottle of shower gel into the bath and make myself some bubbles to hide under while I read.

Found, patience and noodle soup.

1. I have held up the queue scrabbling through my bag and my pockets, but the lady behind me (she is wearing a scarlet coat and a diamante dragonfly brooch) shares my relief with kind words when I find my purse.

2. A little girl sits in a supermarket trolley. She is waiting patiently for the pink iced donut in a plastic bag on the seat next to her.

3. A dish of clear chicken soup with finely chopped vegetables (dots of carrot, threads of greens) and glutinous rice noodles.

Cutting, off school and bread.

Yesterday was a day of lateness and not being able to get my head round things. I put the podcast up yesterday hours after I posted: I forgot what day of the week it is. So if you missed it, please go and have a listen. I now have a revolting cold, and feel very sorry for myself, so perhaps that explains it all.

1. I am chatting on the phone to Louise, and she says: "I've just noticed, that plant you gave me has flowered." That plant is a cutting from a pot plant she gave me. I now have three, but they've never bloomed for me.

2. In the pub, there are three children behind the bar -- they've come to work with mum because of the snow. "That'll be one fifty, love" she says to me. "One fifty, love," whispers the smallest child. They giggle, and she sends them all back upstairs.

3. I was late making the bread, so I have to cut it for supper within minutes of taking it out of the breadmaker. Hot air escapes from the crust and scalds my fingers. The kitchen smells of new bread.

A greeting, sweep and shake.

1. In the shopping precinct, a toddler is off at a run. His parents try to catch him, but he veers right to wave at a stoney-faced elderly man who is sitting on a bench. The man's waxy face breaks into a joyful smile.

2. I like to sweep the kitchen and the bathroom floors and to feel comfortable walking on them again.

3. Shaking out and straightening the doormats.

Talk talk, bang on the door and I'm a writer.

1. Sitting on trains and buses listening to snippets of conversations: "Listen, mum, don't give people my number. I'm sortin' myself out. You know how it is when you are tryin' to sort yourself out." And "Lou, man, she 'ad a tache, like she'd just finished a cappucino." And "...that's the trouble with going to a posh school: always trying to be better than you are. Not like us working class."

2. Ellie likes knock-knock jokes, and has a creaky Scottish voice for the 'Who's there?' line. My stock is soon exhausted, but that's OK, because she thinks they're just as funny the second time round. I also heard a new one:

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Mandy.
Mandy who?
Mandy lifeboats: we're sinking.

3. Ellie, Niamh and I are talking about a hornbeam in the garden, and Niamh asks me: "Are you the one who's got a book coming out?"

Kite, eavesdropping and send-off.

This morning, I'm on A Handful of Stones.

1. She is trying to fly a tiny kite, but doesn't know you have to face into the wind. I liked hearing a shout, and seeing that, by chance, she'd got it airborne.

2. Nick is sitting on the doorstep polishing shoes. I like to overhear him talking with our neighbours about the cucumbers I have grown.

3. I send off three tiny stories to a competition, and I feel as if I've achieved something.

Enjoying the sun, ice cream and geisha.

1. A middle-aged man, the peeling sun-red skin of his torso bare, sits with his wife on a park bench. He's drinking a can of larger, and he fills the space around them with tinny music from a small radio.

2. A little girl with corn blonde hair and a thick ring of ice cream round her mouth.

3. We watch Memoirs of a Geisha. The darkness and the icy rain storm of the start are driven away by one act of kindess.

The report, a meeting and yellow dog.

1. I get a text message to say: 'All I'm hearing today is "Clare give me apple. Tree!"'.

2. He has seen my map and wants to know: "Are you going for a walk?" I show him where I'm planning to go, and his mother and sister tell me they've just seen an adder.

3. A labrador the colour of straw-dry grass bounds towards me on the path by the stream. I am taken aback by his enthusiasm and he pushes his wet, toothy muzzle into my hand. The lady hurrying behind him calls: 'Sorry, he's too friendly!'

Weather eye, from knee height and brotherhood of brides.

We've got a game going on Twitter. Tweet your beautiful things in the style of a 3BT title (eg: Long horizon, little clouds and plate of lemons.) and tag it #threebeautifulthings. You can follow me, too if you like: Threebt.

1. This garden on a hillside is so full of sky. Hilary says: 'I just like watching the weather.'

2. At two, everything is marvellous -- including a cat that streaks across the room when you try to stroke it; 'Aeroplane! In the sky! Making a noise!'; running faster than your parents; and 'One, two, three, four, five' apples on the tree.

3. Lorna and I slip round the the back of the house to bounce on the trampoline and talk about being brides. I need to get out of breath, and be reminded that I am not the only woman getting married.

Got to go, the milestone and story.

1. He says as we wake up on a work day: "I hate leaving you."

2. She says that her little girl has reached another milestone. "Now she cuddles me."

3. We listen to H E Bates' gentle and affectionate story, The Maker of Coffins on BBC 7.

Found you, sharing the line and forces' sweetheart.

1. Small boy calls for his mother in the market. By the time I turn round, she's dabbing the tears off his face.

2. I like chatting to one of the neighbours as we peg out our washing.

3. Nick comes back from the tank rally and says he's seen Dame Vera Lynn 'And she's tiny, like a little bird.'

Muuu-um, hand-in-hand and apple.

1. She tells her mother not to embarrass her, then asks if she can press the button to open the train door.

2. I like holding my goddaughter's very small hand as we walk to the tube.

3. For a couple of weeks I've been testing the apples on the branches hanging over the wall between the solicitors' car park and the street. Tonight, one falls off in my hand.

Heavy, pan and potatoes.

1. Small children coming out of the theatre try to take control of the day: one small boy goes limp and floppy in his reins so his father must pick him up and carry him.

2. Nick buys us a bright and heavy new frying pan to replace the old one that has a worn spot.

3. Using the sharp edge of a washing-up brush to scrape the skin off new potatoes.