Six weeks, up front and a place to go.

1. Nick tells me 'Six weeks' and we smile to think of all the changes that will have happened in that time. The new bathroom will be in; the kitchen floor laid; and I will have 23m of shelves on the left of the fireplace.

2. We sit right under the stage at the Tunbridge Wells Mela so PaulV can take pictures. In front of us, little girls of all colours and sizes copy the Bangladeshi dancers, and children rest their chins on the stage, entranced. Here's Plutarch's take on it over at Now's the Time. And you can see what Anonymous Bosch made of it at in three posts at Street Photography in Tunbridge Wells: part 1, part 2 and part 3.

3. In the evening park, two sturdy teenagers sit on the swings drinking bottles of beer.

Taskmistress, drinking club and madhouse.

1. Katie comes in to borrow my gardening kit and catches me playing computer games. She says: 'I'm working, so you have to.' A few hours later, the garden is much neater and 300 Beautiful Things is taking shape.

2. Crowds of morris men waving handkerchiefs on the Pantiles.

3. We walk into a restaurant and the waiter says: 'Welcome to the madhouse.' We are confronted by what looks like a scene from Nurse Matilda:
Coriander was lifting Amelie up so she could climb a pillar, much to the horror of the dating couple trying to have a date behind it.
Gregory was banging a spoon on the table.
Holly and Daisy were having a screaming match.
Marcus was tipping salt into the packets of sugar and putting them back in the bowl.
Noah was seeing how many breadsticks he could get up his nose.
Victoria, Joshua and Jacob were trying to get round the entire table without touching the ground.
All the other children were doing simply dreadful things too.

Fruit cup, dancing spawn and lines.

1. I think myself lucky to get a piece of lemon in my Pimm's -- but Justin comes back with a glass loaded with strawberries and mint. And for the next round, Ian returns with even more fruit -- apples, cucumber, orange and plum. It's all about contacts, apparently.

2. At a festival of local live music on the Pantiles, the town's toddlers wiggle to the front and dance unsteadily before the bandstand. Occasionally an ambitious one climbs on to the stage, only to be quickly hooked back by more sensible people.

3. I struggled with perspective at school -- I was off sick the week they taught it. I have ideas about parallel lines and vanishing points, and roads appearing narrower as they approach the horizon, but they don't connect terribly well in my head. While watching a documentary about Byzantine icons, all becomes clear, and some of the tricks artists can play with perspective are exposed for my delight and understanding.

Marmite, pudding and cheek to cheek.

1. Fresh white bread with butter and marmite.

2. A dish of blackberry and apple crumble decorated with mint leaves and fresh blackberries.

3. Dancing with Nick because I'm used to being close to him -- I really struggle with being so near a stranger. I hope Nick takes to it so we can dance often.

Dancing girls, so TWells and hoop-la.

Pictures here: Street Photography in Tunbridge Wells: Tunbridge Wells Mela.

1. Tunbridge Wells held a mela, a free multicultural festival of music, dance and food. Best of all, I liked the tiny Bangladeshi girls dancing to folk tunes. They were wearing bright red and gold saris, and they looked so happy and proud to be on stage in front of all these people. After their turn, they danced in front of the stage to the other acts.

2. One of the borough council minions suggested that between acts, we might like to sit back, listen to some music and 'cool out... ahem, I'm told that should have been "chill out"'. So Tunbridge Wells.

3. A lady in red and black brings an armful of hoops into the park. She picks a gold one and starts to hula, oblivious to anything but the music and her dancing. People, mostly children, start to join in, taking hoops and dancing too.

Slow moving, malt loaf and dancer.

New post up at 12 Old Masters.

1. It's cold, so I get up by degrees, wandering round wrapped in my duvet, sitting on the sofa, going back to bed, and then finally making a run for it.

2. For breakfast, Katie has slices of malt loaf piled with butter.

3. I drag PaulV along to salsa and he is so up for it. He is really keen to learn more so he can show off. It's great having a partner I know well, because I can tell him off for putting his hands in the wrong place, or for not leading enough -- with a stranger, you can't do that.

Rising sap, open leaves and up the pole.

1. Oli saying that warm spring mornings makes him feel nostalgic for his school days. 'We would go down to this place called 'smokers' corner' -- none of us actually smoked, but the teachers didn't know about it, and the girls from the local girls school would go there, too. It would have been the first time in the year it was warm enough to go there and...' he tails off, and I make encouraging noises, so he continues: 'Well, you know, there would've been snogging.'

2. Spotting unfurled rose leaves below my bedroom window.

3. New achievements in pole-dancing because each new thing I do gives me the confidence to try something else.

Smoke, dancing shoes and where did that come from.

1. The smell of rosemary burning under the grill.

2. I call Lou to see if she's going to salsa. Secretly, I hope she's not because I'm tired and cross. She doesn't want to go either; so we decide we better had go. As it happens, the lesson is great, with a couple of fun men to dance with; and we come out feeling much more cheerful.

3. Before going to bed, I need to race down the draughty hall and into the icy cold kitchen to fill my hotwater bottle. Still damp from my shower, I sit on the edge of the bed to ponder this epic journey. As I lean back, my hand finds something warm -- Katie has done it all for me.

Darling buds, reject and yes you can.

1. Lying in bed listening to H.E. Bates' A Little of What You Fancy on BBC 7. The Darling Buds series is the ultimate in feel-good novels. The first time I read one, I couldn't believe something awful wasn't about to happen. I love Pop Larkin's luxuriant descriptions of the expansive Ma.

2. Getting a rejection slip from Mslexia. This might seem like a bad thing to non-writers, but it's not. First, every rejection slip is a badge of honour: It means you have sent a piece of writing out into the world, and that is an achievement in itself. Second, this was a very good natured rejection slip -- it said that the story had been shortlisted, along with 59 others and that 'Some submissions were rejected in order to create a balance of contrasting items. It may be that yours wasn't included because, by bad luck, it had exactly the same subject matter as a slightly stronger piece of work.'

3. In the (paraphrased) words of my poledancing teacher: 'That bit at the end where you stopped yourself falling. You were supporting your own weight on your arms, which you said you couldn't do. Now I know you can. Busted.'

Support, catch-up and fear.

1. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has made a playlist for me and Katie to celebrate our new dance class -- it's called Now That's What I Call Poledancing 37. And someone has edited the first few business cards in the box on my desk. They now read:

Clare Grant
Healthcare Editor
And Exotic Dancer

2. A former colleague is doing some work downstairs. She comes up for a chat at lunchtime.

3. Poledancing is terrifying, and I'm really struggling with the idea of supporting my weight, letting go and sliding. So we try a move I definitely can do, and suddenly sliding down and landing on my knees is easy.

Successful shopping, roasties and salsaros

1. Running into three lots of people that I know on an expedition into town.

2. Shaking up parboiled potatoes in the pan to make them fluffy for roasting.

3. Men who are brave enough to join a salsa class, especially those who become confident enough to lead well.

Baby talk, degrees of separation and moves.

1. Ellie sitting in the washing basket laughing at her rattle appearing and disappearing. And also laughing when we were pretending to be Godzilla and Mothra smashing a Manhatten made of wooden blocks. And Cat reading a story about mouse and giraffe who are in love. And Ellie conducting for her father while he played the piano.

2. Cat's mother mentioned me and Sgt Dub in a talk at her Unitarian church this Sunday. She used us as an example of how people can lead very different lives in far flung parts of the world yet still affect each other.

3. A salsa class that gave me tonnes more confidence.

Malteasers, Neil Gaiman and slick moves.

1. In the afternoon, Ellie produces bags of Malteasers for the three of us, and we spend twenty minutes happily crunching (or sucking the chocolate off and then crunching in my case).

2. 'There's some post for you,' said Fenella on the way back from the restaurant. 'A postcard and some magazines. Nothing important. Do you want them?' Last time she handed me some post, it went straight in the litter bin on the High Street.
But I caught sight of the signature on the postcard and gasped.
'What? What is it?'
Gasp.
'What is it?'
'Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman?'
'Who is Neil Gaiman?'
'SandmanCoralineMirrormaskNeverwhereAmericanGodsWriter.'
'Clare, please breathe. You have to breathe.'
So between hysterics, I explained I had been sending letters to writers I admire; and that Neil Gaiman had sent me an encouraging handwritten postcard.

3. Andy and Fenella showing off their dancing -- they demonstrated a complicated cross-over which looked fantastic. And hearing Katie telling the stories behind the moves -- 'He's pushed you a bit too hard, so you need to get him back by wiggling your hips at every other man on the dancefloor.'

Getting dressed slowly, magnetism and simile.

1. Having time to put on lots of a moisturiser with a light fruity scent.

2. While putting up a magnetic knife rack, Katie makes the mistake of putting it down on the hob. We discover that the magnet is so strong that you us it to pick up the thing you stand the pans on.

3. Andy explaining that leading while dancing is a lot like using a game console. 'I push back and you go backwards, I push sideways and you go sideways.' Let's hope he doesn't discover how to make his partner explode.

Light of day, resolved and dancing.

1. I'm not often in the flat at the time of day when sunlight is pouring through my bedroom and the living room windows. I loved showering and dressing in the slatted light coming through the blinds. I liked basking on the sofa in the warmth of these stripes, and how the blue and red glass in the windows made coloured shadows on the floor. I enjoyed the way the light showed up the glas greens and caramel colours on the tiles surrounding my bedroom fireplace. Back in the bathroom, the scraps of carpet padding the Saniflo are not dark blue -- they're bottle green. And the sun on my lunch! The morels, which I assumed were black and wrinkly, are slightly translucent and the colour of black coffee in the sun when the light is behind them. And it picked out the little wisps of blue steam rising from the scrambled eggs.

2. Catching up with Fenella and Andy. I only went round to pick up my post, but I was offered a mug of Winter Pimm's under Andy's new year's resolution. He is trying to drink more -- which is unusual, but admirable in its way.

3. Despite having to be dragged kicking and screaming to a salsa class, I had a really good time. We did the warm up, and as I found myself stepping forward to the left when I should be going right and tripping over my feet; I thought all my worst fears had been realised. But as the class progressed, I got hold of the idea. The ladies had to pass round the ring from partner to partner, which is a fantastic way to learn because sometimes you get someone good who does the leading arm signals so you learn how to follow; and sometimes you get someone less confident, and you have to concentrate on your feet and remember all the steps.

Alien heads, bride, spectators, night scents, is she here, chatelaine, forbidden fruit, Latina and finery.

As is customary, large post for special day.

1. The curlers in our hair made us look like the Mysterons.

2. Fenella looked so beautiful in her wedding dress that I cried. Lucky the make-up was completely tear-proof, really. What I liked best of all (apart from her enormous smile) was that she loved her full-length veil so much that she kept it on for the whole day.

3. My mother turning up to watch us going into the church. Later I learnt that Oli's wife Caroline was there, too. And I loved all the passing children ohhing at Fenella and getting in the way of the camera.

4. Smelling the lavender bushes with Emma in the twilight, and spotting a flash of white on the other side of the hedge where the bride and groom were stealing a moment alone.

5. Jim telling us that while they waited in the church for the bride, every time the organ came to the end of a song, Andy would whisper: 'It's showtime.' Then the organ would start up again. 'And I would swear the opening chords were the wedding march every time, but it never was'.

6. I nipped upstairs to use the bridal dressing room in the castle, and once I met a tiny little dog on the landing and heard the laughter of a very old lady. Another time, just as it got dark, I met the lady herself, elegantly dressed and very sharp-looking. 'Oh you look beautiful,' she said. 'Are you having a good time?' I was more than a little starry by this time, so I babbled rather about how beautiful the castle looked, and how happy I was to be there and how much fun I was having.

7. The naughty look on the other Claire's face as she stole strawberries from the chocolate fountain table.

8. Andy's mother dancing to Macarena.

9. Fiona, Jim and Dan sitting in Wetherspoons in their wedding finery. Our Wetherspoons is the old opera house, and secretly, I thought they were the only ones properly dressed for the occasion.

Garden, dressing up and too-rah loo-rah lay.

1. Being shown around the garden by Claire's dad. I like the deepest red dahlias best, and the delphiniums.

2. Claire in a girly dress with pink sparkly shoes and handbag.

3. Dancing to Come On Eileen.

Where I left it, unequal struggle, click, and Spanish.

1. Gareth says: ‘I left my passport in the computer place. When I went back an hour later it was still there.’

2. Watching the other truck trying to put their kitchen tarp up in the rain after they had drunk a punch made of two bottles of vodka, one bottle of Sprite and two tins of fruit salad.

3. We watched some cultural dancers. They sung the Namibian national anthem for us and they were wearing skirts made of bamboo beads threaded on to strings. There were bottle tops among the bamboo and it made a lovely clicky noise as they danced.

4. Kevin liked hearing Spanish speakers in the other group at the campsite. ‘I used to have lots of Spanish friends. I find it a very nice language.’

Rundu, Namibia

Career, observers, green and unequal match.

This is our first night on Lake Malawi. We arrived to find another truck parked. The group was having a dressing-up-in-women’s-clothes night and we were welcome to join in. ‘Um, yeah. Thanks.’

1. I like putting ‘writer’ on my immigration forms. It’s best not to put ‘editor’ or ‘journalist’ because sometimes border officers are funny about people who might associate with newspapers and a border officer with a funny feeling means hours of delay. The chap who processed my form was feeling chatty, and he asked me what I wrote about. I told him ‘beautiful things’ and we agreed that I would have lots to say about Malawi.

2. The 40 kids who joined us for our first meal in Malawi. You can stop anywhere in Africa for lunch, and within moments children will appear to watch. As soon as we put our stools out, they all sat down. I chatted to Baxter (said he was 15, looked nine) and Steve (said he was nine, looked about six) and another boy with a difficult name who said he was 130. Three tried my glasses on, heads tipped back to keep them from slipping off. When I took my specs back I polished the smeary lenses on my top before putting them on. The boys wiped imaginary pairs of glasses on their shirts and put them on, too. We asked if we could photograph them -- I have about ten shots of them pretending to be me taking a picture; and several of arms and hands as they pushed each other out of the way. Then Anne put some music on and they danced, one skinny little girl bobbing up and down with her eyes squeezed shut like a clubber. (Picture by Rosey Grant)

3. Francis says: ‘The mountains and the green fields near the border with Malawi. That’s where most of the food in Tanzania comes from.’

4. Rosey dancing with a six foot Dutchman who was wearing a short orange cocktail dress.

Tanzania to Chitimba, Malawi

Boys, furniture and more boys.

1. It's 10am, and the mercury is quietly creeping up, so we go to an an air-conditioned cinema and see Batman Begins. It features the most beautiful villain in film history - Cillian Murphy. I am smitten.

2. Antique Chinese wardrobes. I am going to have one when I have a bigger place that needs a wardrobe. They are solid, blocky and rather modern looking in form, but have all the friendly scuffs and stains of an antique. Some of them have little pictures on of people, landscapes or dragons.

3. Revenge. It's not a dish best served cold; it's a welcoming gay club where you can hang out with the boys and do whatever you feel. This includes painting your nails (Pat, Barry and PaulV); stealing sailor hats from pretty boys (Bluety) and removing your shirt (Barry, PaulV, Jon, Jay, Ross, Bluety and Pat)