Right tools for the job, gothic novel and the revue.

1. Writing on a CD with a fine new permanent pen purchased particularly for this task.

2. I'm really loving The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins (although I do want to shout at the self-destructively virtuous and passive Laura Fairlie). When I settle down to read, I disappear into that dark world -- the brooding lake and the oppressive house and Mr Fairlie's shuttered study.


3. I went with a writing friend to the Comedy Cafe at Trinity -- and one of the acts was the pant-wettingly funny Raymond and Mr Timpkins Revue (there's a video). Their set was a cavalcade of song lyric and typographic japery to a quick-fire soundtrack. It was very clever, and very slick.

Cabbages, prime ministers and rocky roads.

1. There are green and purple cabbages in our veggie box -- almost too beautiful to cook. The bases of the leaves are spring green. Gradually they shade into a deep midnight purple.

2. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named sometimes shares things in Google Reader. This week, a radio phone-in prank about Gordon Brown made me laugh.

3. Nick brings home a pair of rocky roads from the Hummingbird Bakery. They are more like rocky mountains, actually -- we finish up like a pair of toddlers with chocolate all over our faces.

Museum pieces, the expert and prescription.

1. Schoolgirls who are bored of the maritime museum pose against the glass dividing an exhibition from the main hall, all legs, long hair and mischief.

2. We sit on a bench in front of a long case of brass bits and pieces of a maritime nature. A small boy in a school party points confidently to a dip circle: 'That's the steering wheel' and then to a green starboard lantern: 'And that's the engine.'

3. I like to see a friend who has been working too hard relax and laugh and drink too much wine -- under doctor's orders, of course.

Pink milk, diseases and sweetpeas.

1. I put the last of the stewed strawberries on my cereal to turn the milk pink.

2. Rosey disappears into the bathroom. A moment later, she shouts through the door: "I think I've got internalised tattooing disease and logopetria." I start to wonder what she's up to... and then remember that I left my copy of The Thackery T. Lambshead Pocket Guide to Eccentric and Discredited Diseases in there.

3. My father apologises for the tiny bunch of sweetpeas; but even the brave few have perfumed the kitchen.

Treasure trove, walking home and gotcha.

1. DIY shops -- which were once my idea of dull hell -- have become caverns of fascination: sheets of textured copper and red bath plug chain.

2. Nick is home early because of the G20 disruptions, so he walks out to meet me on my way home. Our paths converge in a bus shelter and he kisses me firmly to show anyone who might be looking that we belong to each other.

3. At bed time I realise that I have been got by A Quarter Of's April Fool's Day jape -- an ad for a new sort of chocolate bubbled through with helium.

Not as bad as it looks, the good thing about curly kale

Happy new year everyone. Here's to a shiny, clean blank page of a year to fill with fun and adventure.

1. I discover that the sachets of instant cappucino I bought yesterday are decaf. Woe is me. Then I remember that Katie-who-sits-next-to-me doesn't do caffeine, but is very fond of these coffee sachets, so I can share them with her.

2. Picking over the crisply curled leaves of kale and stripping out the stalks and shaking off the diamond drops of water.

3. Spotting a bottle of fizzy wine cooling on the window ledge and hearing fireworks all around us.

Freedom, on foot and the parcels.

1. Days when the computers at work give access to sites normally forbidden (i.e., anything interesting).

2. Walking past a traffic jam.

3. Wrapping the last few presents.

Better, hot food and celebration cake.

1. After nearly a week of grey, plodding cold misery and discouragement: I laugh out loud.

2. Coming home and smelling dinner in the oven.

3. My aunt brings us a cake decorated with holly and ivy and Christmas roses. It has a sugar arch, hung with snowflakes and snow men and Christmas trees decked with silver balls.

Strange sky, not walking to work and busted.

Tunbridge Wells photograph story from Sarah Salway.

1. The new sun, bright in the east, throws down long, sharp shadows but the sky is gauzed by thin grey clouds.

2. The bus brings me to work, gently and on time.

3. It's a quiet morning. We sneak out early to buy some lunch... and meet all the managers coming upstairs from a meeting. They laugh at us.

Running repair, stocking filler and baked apples.

I just wanted to say how much I appreciate all the 'Thank you' notes that have been appearing recently. I'm really glad so many of you take the time to read me. I'm glad I've helped people to learn English, and to relax at the end of a working day. I'm also delighted by the steadily growing list of Blogger followers (see right sidebar) and feed subscribers.

And Ian over at The Eye has created a Friendfeed room for 3BT -- go and join in the fun.

1. Patching the seat of my jeans on a cold, dark afternoon.

2. I look at the thing I have just made: a blue felt stocking sewn round with red blanket stitch and think that it would look neat stuffed with a couple of Cadbury's Wispas.

3. At bedtime, the smell of baked apples is still hanging round in the kitchen.

Christmas box, not today and prints.

1. A box of Christmas shopping sweets arrives for me at work from A Quarter Of. I have a lot more candy necklaces than I want, so the rest of the day is marked by the occassional crunch-crunch-crunch.

2. I go into M&S feeling as if I ought to take advantage of its 20 per cent off day by picking up some needful things. A lady near me looks at the queues and the crowds and the scrums and says: 'Oh how ridiculous.' I quite agree, and walk out again.

3. Rolling ink with a brayer because of the sticky noise it makes.

Sharp point, smile and film.

1. Filling in a few Sudoku answers using a sharp pencil that has a rubber on the end.

2. I hurry home from work and I can't stop smiling at the thought.

3. We sit close together on the sofa and giggle our way through Team America.

Morning sun, savages and light reading.

1. Looking down through an area railing and seeing sunlight coming in from the other side of the house.

2. Lego Starwars has turned us into savages -- mainly because we haven't quite got the hang of the controls yet. Every time I turn round there seems to be an explosion of Lego bodyparts, and then everyone else starts shooting.

3. Hunting for something gentle and cheerful to read, I find a Bill Bryson book.

Leaves, a gift and laughing.

1. A drift of autumn leaves has changed the grey pavement to yellow-gold.

2. A box has come by post. Lauren over at All the Good Blog Names Were Taken has sent me a wonderful 3BT journal. I can't stop looking at it. She has used all different papers for the pages, so every page is a surprise. These are some posts about her own 3BTing. Also in the box is this card, which I quietly admired on her blog the other day.

3. I spend the evening with old friends. Again and again I put my head back and laugh.

Something to wake up to, open air and knights.

1. 'You're always so pleased to see me in the morning,' comments Nick.

2. Out of the woods and into a field of grass and mushrooms.

3. What did you do last night? Rescued a princess, insulted a female pirate, ran away, killed a giant ape. We've been round at Tim's again.

Loud, hot off the press and a laugh.

1. Instead of a shy tile like all the other houses in the street, number 61 announces itself on the side gate in foot high white painted Roman font.

2. Sneaking looks at an exciting feature while it is still being put on the page.

3. I only discover in the car that we are not going to watch comedy tonight -- we are going to be the comedy at an improv workshop.

Aerial, the ring and the tower.

We went to Cirque Surreal last night.

1. Two storeys up, a man hangs by one hand from a canvas strap. He holds with his other hand his partner's foot. She is upside-down, her hands on his feet. Suddenly, she drops. And catches herself by her feet, on his feet. I have been holding my breath.

2. An acrobat in white holds his partner, who has bent herself into a ring, above his head. He proudly rotates to show us all this wonder. Then he drops her and catches her, still in a ring, around his waist.

3. Three acrobats balance on each others' shoulders, a three-times high man. We cheer, and they grin at us, meeting our eyes with swaggering, smouldering virile pride. Then, almost un-noticed amid the thunder and the set-up for the next act, the man tower tips forward -- three perfect bodies heading for the floor. But they catch themselves in forward rolls and the thunder rises with our whoops and cries.

Contacts, cooking and evening do.

1. I have been Postcrossing again -- I like getting an email saying my card has arrived, particularly if the person adds a little note about the card.

2. I have always wanted to try serving gooseberries with mackerel -- so I did. I made a Medieval-looking mess of onion, gooseberries (which go interestingly opaque as they cook) and breadcrumbs fried in butter. This, while still warm, I squidged between the two halves of mackerel fillets. The instructions said to secure them with cocktail sticks, but as it also said to use rhubarb instead of gooseberries I felt safe ignoring this. I jammed the lot into a dish lined with greaseproof paper and made a parcel. I baked it at 200C while I had a shower and dressed. It was messy, but good -- oily fish and sharp fruit are a brilliant combination. Next time, I would toast the crumbs, and maybe butter the paper -- or I'd use a dish with a lid.

3. At Sarah Salway's Soiree I meet people I don't know, but who know me through 3BT. It is interesting to see how much I give away in these little snippets. People are most intrigued by Nick: one lady had been interested enough to go right back to read the whole story. She said she wasn't a stalker, she just had a crush on me, which made me feel very appreciated. So long as no-one starts writing peculiar fanfic* based on 3BT, I'm just going to enjoy the love.

I read a piece -- a selection of beautiful things about classes and courses. I felt a bit shy because everyone else was reading works-in-progress, short stories and poetry. Then I thought that actually, 3BT is a work-in-progress. I am starting to draw on it more and more for projects.

* This link goes to a sensible Wikipedia article that will not make you want to put your brain in the washing machine. Please do not Google this term if you are of a sensitive disposition.

Not lost, travelling, books away and dinner out.

There has been plenty of 3BT action over at Applehouse Poetry Workshop -- check out the comments.

And all you writers -- Fiona Robyn is running a workshop in August: Developing your writing practice.

1. Bookcrossing -- I put my stuff down in the Post Office, and when I leave 'forget' to pick up a labelled book. I wonder who will find, and if they'll like it.

2. Freecycling -- piles of books disappear off our doorstep, carried away by readers.

3. The words 'dinner' and 'my treat'. And little dishes of tapas.

The rain, a homonym and how summers used to be.

1. I am shaking the water off my umbrella when the sun comes out.

2. 'What's time?' asks Jules.
'About ten to seven,' I reply, without stopping typing.
I don't understand why he's laughing, until Katie calls: 'Get some sage and fennel, too.'

3. I smell honeysuckle before I see it. It reminds me of a day in the summer I finished my GCSEs -- James and Glen and PaulV and I were walking in the woods. It was hot -- a proper June day -- and the world smelt of dust and honeysuckle. Someone picked a vine of it to twist round my straw hat.