Sunday morning, warming up and tracking.

1. Nick takes me out for breakfast -- at 10am the streets are Sunday silent and the air is so cold and still that it feels as if we are watching the world through glass.

2. Hot chocolate with a peak of foam on top and flecks of chocolate melting into it.

3. He calls down from the attic: "Darling wife, I can track our pizza on-line!"

Nesting, caution and Blue.

1. Sarah Salway gave us a nestbox for a wedding present. I think it brought us luck in our house-hunting. Nick has come up with a cunning plan that allows us to wire it to the trellis in the garden.

2. Nick's dad rings. I say I'll call Nick down from the attic. "Tell him to be careful on those stairs."

3. Recently I friended a fictional character on Facebook. She's the creation of a friend -- a character in a TV series (I think) that he's working on about an institution for gifted teenagers. Blue Malone's gift is that when she holds an item, she knows things about the last person to use it. She writes up her diary on FB and posts snippets that she's picked up. She's been known to comment on her friends' posts, which is strange -- but pleasing, too. I've never consumed fiction like this before -- I know it's out there, but until now, I've never found anything that appeals to me. I think anyone can friend her -- try this link to her profile.

The lie-in, clean gnashers and I was there first.

1. I haven't got my head round the clocks going forward. I sleep badly, wake up shouting at skeletons on top of the wardrobe and then I doze through the news on the radio alarm. Nick suggests I should have a lie in and this strikes me as an excellent idea. Twenty minutes later, I'm ready to go. All things come to he who waits.

2. The dentist praises my hygiene. I tell him I'm lucky with my teeth. He tells me about the golfer Gary Player -- "Someone told him he had a lot of luck, and he replied: 'You know, it's funny, the more I practise, the luckier I get.'"

3. I go along to the Tuttle, and the men are all full of a game called Foursquare -- every time you go somewhere, you use your iPhone to sign in. They have been competing to get to places first ("I bagged hobbycraft," says someone proudly), and to go to places the more times than anyone else (that makes you the mayor -- "I'm now mayor of the Pantiles -- Rob's really annoyed," says someone else. ). Rob arrives and is ticked off for signing in before coming through the door. "I was in the car park, wasn't I?" he complains.

Storm light, not alone and made it.

1. The grubby yellowish light of a thunderstorm.

2. My Tunbridge Wells Twitter pane lights up as a thunder storm goes over. Exclamations and back-up reminders make me feel as if I'm working in a friendly office again.

3. The last piece of work has been a slog -- I feel as if I've actually climbed the South Downs that I've been writing about. I'm so glad to be standing on the top of the hill looking back at my progress.

Can't catch me, engine and that's enough.

1. Early in the morning there is a smear of something white -- potato starch, or spilt milk -- on the worktop. But when I try to wipe it off, it turns out to be sunlight creeping round to the dark side of the house.

2. Hearing the steam engine working faster to pull us up a hill.

3. He reaches up and hands the cake back to his mother. She says: 'Lovely: you've licked off the jam, and that's it?'

New printer, sausage and who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

1. Buying a new printer to replace the old one that only takes a sheet of paper at a time.

2. A few pieces of juicy chorizo in my supper.

3. We watch an adventure film set in the 1930s -- The Shadow. He fights crime using his mind control skills to make himself seem invisible. One of the franchise's early manifestations was as a radio drama -- how fantastic to write a radio script about an invisible protagonist.

Red and white, the morning after and an alternative.

Vote for this blog over at Dorset Cereals. Who will be the first?

1. Stacking slices of cheese and tomato (pips scraped out) in a sandwich.

2. I am glad I walked to work on a sunny morning after a night of rain.

3. The BBC i-player is runs on my work computer once again, so I can spend my lunch break listening to a play instead of mooching round DIY shops.

30 days, virtue and a comparison.

1. The number of unread items in my spam box is going down by itself -- the 30-day auto delete has kicked in because I haven't looked in there for a month. This is good, because one of my new year's resolutions was to stop checking the spam folder. The Google system makes mistakes so rarely that a daily wallow in mails from people who peddle filth and misery is not worth it. My other resolution -- to stop reading the depressing Have Your Say message boards on the BBC -- is going well, too.

2. I hold up my cotton bag for my purchases, and the shop man smiles and says: 'Good girl.'

3. I skim over my copy of the Watchmen graphic novel to compare it with the film I saw last night.

Burning, birch and pursuit.

1. The chilli in his sweat burns my fingertips.

2. Weeping birch with a silver water drop on every twig tip and fork.

3. A blue sprite of exhaust chases the car up the road.

Sparrow, back home and that's all.

1. I like to see a sparrow bend double to hover under the eaves.

2. Two women with a baby use the free wifi to chat on a laptop with someone back home in the Philippines.

3. I ring my father to give him some news. 'Anything else?' he asks.
'Nope, that's all.'
'Well it's a pretty good all.'

Cookie, tangerines and steampunk.

I love this post on Life ain't that bad: Deepawali, welcome and lit up.

1. Nibbling pieces of chocolate chip cookie.

2. There are tangerines like small suns in our vegetable box.

3. We listen to The Steppes of Thoth and spend the evening on the edge of the sofa as our heroes suffer a tidal storm in a Martian canal and are attacked by a German ironclad airship.

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.

Reboot, charcoal and Hilary.

1. In the before dawn dark, the computer ur-ur-urs and reboots, ur-ur-urs and reboots. This isn't right. Black thoughts of data irretrievable and work due in on Monday. I switch it off, count to 30, try again. ur-ur-ur reboot. ur-ur-ur reboot. I stare at the screen, wondering stupidly why I've bothered to get up at 6am if I can't do any work. I switch off at the plug and try again. I look at the keyboard, and something in my head says: 'F9'. I hit the key and normal service is resumed. Never have I been so pleased to see the green caterpillar on the Vista start-up screen.

2. My art teacher hands me a plain cardboard box of charcoal.

3. On my way home, through the unfamiliar night streets, I run into Hilary, my old boss' wife. She is waiting to pick up one of her daughters from a night out and has plenty of news to share.

4. Nick brings me a chocolate Goddess from my favourite chocolate shop.

Wildlife, helpline and dinner.

1. I take my lunch out to the seats in the back of the carpark. Within minutes, I have seen a dragonfly.

2. A new scarlet ethernet cable in a coil on my bedpost.

3. A housemate cooking spag bol and unpacking the Abel and Cole box.

Big red, victory is mine and licence fee.

Sanchosser has made me a 3BT Wordle.

1. Our neighbours' grandson walks to the car clutching a toy fire engine almost as large as he is.

2. Trouncing Nick at Wii tennis (I think it was because let my computer tennis partner do all the work -- but I still won) and then improving my Wii fitness age from 74 to 38.

3. The sarcastic laughter and be-quiet-I-really-want-to-like-thises running under our viewing of the BBC's new archaeology drama, Bonekickers. Reaction: we were very disappointed that they didn't find any post holes; but we did like seeing the heroine dodging a nutter with a Medieval sword while dangling on ropes under a dovecot built for 666 doves over a pit full of burning crosses. Class.

Red/green, coming back and competition.

1. Salt and pepper on a cucumber and tomato salad.

2. I have given so many books away in the last few weeks. In my darker moments, when I remember how little money-earning work I am doing at the moment, I wonder how much I have spent on these books. But then Katie clears her shelves, too, and asks if there's anything I want. I see clearly how many books arrive in my life like this -- gifts from friends, 10p boxes, special offers and charity shops. And I compare a full-priced paperback to a cinema ticket, and they don't seem so expensive after all.

3. Our second Wii controller has arrived, which means that Nick and I can play together. He beats me smartly at tennis, and hugs me tightly after each set. I am less gracious when I trounce him at bowling.

On the wind, conveyance and wild mint.

1. In the station car park, the wind scutters a leafy willow branch across the ground, whirls the tarmac smell into our faces and whisks clouds into mares' tails high above us.

2. New car smell, a door that closes firmly behind me with almost no effort, and firm new car seats.

3. We walk up the track in the dust and the smell of wild mint comes and goes.

Green potatoes, device and golden fleece.

1. Using my hand blender to make green mashed potato from left-over mange tout.

2. A handy blue basket allows one to lift the cubes of feta out of the brine.

3. Watching footage of people who live in thousand-year-old tower houses four days drive from the nearest main road using fleeces to extract gold from rivers. In the background, a deep blue sky and snow-capped mountains.

Linked up, toms and ahem ahem.

1. Making a webpage work.

2. The Able and Cole box had five or six tomatoes. I noticed their smell as soon as I cut the string. Today I have one in a sandwich with some super strong Cheddar.

3. Caroline says that Deedee aged 8 months has taken to faking coughing fits to get attention. Sure enough, we are treated to a baby cough, and then when we offer concern and sympathy, a huge grin.

Getting there, a ride and faces of dog.

1. I am still very much a learner with Adobe Go Live, and even changing the colour of a table cell is an achievement.

2. When I am running late, getting a lift.

3. We watch a documentary about the Medieval mind and the problems thrown up by the dog-faced people who were rumoured to live in the blank parts of the map. Should they be preached to, or not. And once explorers got to the blank parts of the map, the residents said they thought the dog-faces lived in Europe.