Three Beautiful Things

Natalie commented the other day to say that she has started her own 3BT blog . Go Natalie! 1. We think we should probably get up. I guess that it must be at least lunchtime. It turns out that it's only twenty to eleven. 2. Nick's dad is still thrilled with the results of his cataract operation -- "The curtains when I woke up the morning after. All those reds and greens." Plus he is thoroughly enjoying the sharing of his gory eye surgery story. Now he has gout -- but it seems that even this cloud has a silver lining. He can fit into a pair of shoes (the colour of a freshly picked up conker) that were previously too big. "They're handmade, look, beautiful. We found them in a charity shop for £6." 3. "This is going to be more of an amuse bouche than a bowl of soup," says Nick looking anxiously at the single serving that is going to have to do for two of us. But there's some cream that needs finishing, and leftover cold potatoes in ...

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...

1. To spend some time with my mother at the garden centre discussing the relative merits of violas and wallflowers. I love violas for their surprised but neat faces -- I think they are afraid of spoiling their carefully pencilled-in make-up. As soon as the vegetables finish and some pots come free, I'm going back for a couple of boxes. 2. Clients who pay very promptly and electronically. 3. There's been a car alarm yipping and wailing ever since we got into bed. I go to the window muttering that I am really going to give it something to go off about if I can work out which car it is. It falls silent and does not start again.

Wow, thanks for all the frozen food advice! Really appreciate it. 1. I buy a pair of maternity jeans -- after all, the midwife told me: "You really have got a bump now." 2. To find a hairdresser who is willing to cut my hair right now this minute. 3. To take off a new pair of jeans which still have their own idea of shape.

1. To make tidying up before a viewing easier, we've left space in one of the under-bed drawers. I throw in loose clothes from the bedroom and personal items from the bathroom and I'm glad not to think about them until it's time to put our home back the way it was. 2. A pay cheque comes in the post. 3. I have a haircut and feel much better for it.

1. After a sleepless night, to get up and do the work that has been keeping me awake. 2. A flickering bird darts into the eaves. 3. A breath of wind. Cherry petals spinning across the drive.

1. To improve a day when everything has gone wrong, I sit down for elevensies with a mug of coffee and a chocolate chip cookie. 2. When I drop off my CD of words and images, the art editor is pleased: "These pictures are beautiful," she says. 3. The doorbell rings. My husband can't get at his keys because his hands are full of purple daisies.

1. When my glasses are smeary (everything has a blue-grey mist to it), to clean the lenses between my thumb and finger with washing-up liquid. To rinse them under the hot tap. Then to put them back on, still warm. 2. Low cloud today. The sky begins abruptly -- before the houses have even finished. 3. Nick brings home a bag of Easter chocolates from his boss.

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.

1. Disaster -- the normally reliable milkman hasn't been. Then as I am waving Nick off, I find the bottle on the other side of the doorstep. I can't believe I missed it. 2. To hurry through town on crisp clear day to an office where I can make a large pile of proofreading disappear. 3. To finish work, sit down on the sofa next to my husband and eat a chocolate.

1. There is a dusting of snow this morning -- as if the world has been lightly sugared. 2. As I am paying, my bottle of soy sauce falls over -- but no harm is done. "At least it's not fish sauce," says the shopkeeper. "When a bottle of that breaks, it takes a month to get rid of the smell." 3. I read until I can't keep my eyes open. It feels so good to put my book down and drift off to sleep.

1. I don't know if you spotted the comment on Monday's post from the charming Elspeth Thompson who lives in an eco railway carriage by the sea. She mentioned 3BT in the journaling section of The Wonderful Weekend Book . As a result, one of her readers, Mousey Brown, took up the practice on paper (candy-coloured journals from Moleskine to be exact). In this post , Mousey Brown talks about her tiny diaries. 2. I am doing an interview at Trinity when people who have just finished an art workshop come out of the gallery. They are all carrying bright drawings on chickens done on black paper. My interview subjects scatter to admire the work: "That one's really strutting, isn't he." One of the artists crows like a rooster. 3. I finish for the day at 7.30pm. A bite of supper then a shower. After that, we pack ourselves into bed -- bundled in layers of pyjamas and with a hotwater bottle pushed between the cold sheets.

Edit -- to share a lovely post from Elspeth Thompson . 1. I have a cold, and it's completely floored me -- every time I try to do something, I get tired and achy and frustrated. All I can do is lie in bed and watch the snow. 2. It's hard to tell if the white dust fogging up the yard is new snow or snow picked up from the ground by the wind. Great clots of snow drop from the dark cupressus trees, fall to powder and are whirled away. 3. The crackle of static and the smell of clean laundry as we sort and fold the final load.

Artist Amelia Critchlow has written a 3BT post over at 101 Birds -- we met while I was covering an exhibition here in Tunbridge Wells that includes her work. She's written about that, and the co-incidence surrounding our meeting. 1. I keep her company while she delivers parish Christmas cards. We enjoy the winter decay in other people's gardens, and good nosey at their front doors. 2. I get a piece of work that must be done quickly. It strikes me that it will pay for Christmas lunch. 3. I work late into the night while Nick cuts out his counters. When I come to bed, I apologise for having to work while he is home, but he says he likes being together silently.

1. Dough bumbles round the breadmaker pan like a stout creature in an exercise ball. 2. The butcher is alarmed and bemused by his slowness. "I just want to put my head down and have a 10-minute kip." I tell him that I think that's a reasonable response to this sort of greyish day, when it doesn't really get light. He smiles and says he supposes it is. 3. I'd forgotten football night -- that means for me a hot bath and a good book ( Whitechapel , a novel about a Victorian thug forced to play detective against Jack the Ripper).

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.

Two new faces on the Roll of Honour: Jewellery maker Louise has beeng 3BTing at Tooting Squared and Jennifer, who is watching her offspring discover the world at Cultivating Contentment . They both emailed me to let me know about their blogs. 1. He says: "I'm going to cook supper tonight." 2. I emerge from a two-hour training session to find gleaming wet pavements and gentle rain. 3. I like filing my notes because it says: "job done" and I know that I can find them again if I need them.

1. Nick's mother shows us the shoes she's bought for her wedding outfit. They look elegant and comfortable. She's also bought a deep pink felted coat to go over her dress. It's a brave, joyful colour, and I'm glad she's going to be warm enough on the day. I'm hoping these will be clothes that she can enjoy again and again, too. 2. I am working and he brings me a cup of tea and some biscuits on one of the best plates. Then he goes away and does the washing. 3. I don't mind setting the alarm on a Saturday night if I'm getting up early for an event I've been looking forward to.

Two bits of news: Mari has started a new 3BT blog, Three Beautiful Things of New England , so go over and give her an encouraging comment, and maybe a follow. I've opened an Amazon store to make it simple for people to buy books I mention. You pay the normal price for anything you buy, but I get a finder's fee from Amazon for every purchase made. 1. Two birthday cards lie open on the breakfast table while our pair of inky signatures dries. 2. Among the shredded leaves on the pavement and in the gutter, conkers gleam. It's like finding a piece of french-polished furniture in a junk shop. 3. Lying back and sinking my ears underwater in the bath. Picture of conkers from Stock.xchng

1. I wake in the night and I am cold. I turn over and can feel waves of warmth rolling off Nick as he sleeps. 2. I actually gasp as I read the text message. It's a subject line and a 12-week scan picture. 3. A squirrel undulates across the lawn. It looks like a mmmmm handwriting exercise.