Three Beautiful Things

1. Overhearing my neighbour playing the piano. I texted her to say I was enjoying it; turns out she'll do requests. I could track down some tunes and slip them under her door. 2. Making a cooling cross draught through the flat by strategically wedging some doors open. 3. A small child shouting: 'Can I not like... can I not like...' as if someone was refusing to let it dislike something.

1. DIY shops where you ask for things and men bring them for you. 2. Filling holes in the wall. There is something very satisfying about poking Polyfilla into a hole and smoothing it out. 3. Really juicy steak and grilled mushrooms.

1. Kids on bikes. Three boys in racing helmets were swooping through the Pantiles among all the early evening drinkers. As they zoomed away past me, one of them hitched up his very baggy trousers. 2. A little time to sit down with my book and a cup of tea. 3. Having dinner cooked for me -- cheers Bart.

1. A long-wanted book arriving -- In The Land of Pain by Alphonse Dudonet. It's a book of notes and quotations and observations about pain, something that is notoriously hard to describe. The notes were meant for a book but Dudonet was too ill to work on it. It seems a strange subject, but one that has been neglected. When I used to go to the physio, she would manipulate my hip and ask me 'is this your pain?', but I would not know. 'Describe your pain' is a question that patients dread -- if you can feel your pain, you are in no condition to describe it; and if you can't, you don't remember what it felt like. 2. Reading about writers. There was a quote I read yesterday (in Dudonet again) about the 'second me' who watches and commentates on everything they do. Dudonet wrote about his father's howl of grief at the death of his young son: 'My first Me was in tears, but my second Me was thinking "What a terrific cry! It would be really good...

1. Cool splashes of rain when the temperature is in the 30s. 2. The smell of rain on dry earth -- it's very hot and we've been having a couple of short sharp showers each day, so this is a frequent treat at present. I discovered a few days ago that this smell is partly aromatic oils from ancient vegetation that has turned to dust. 3. I finally summoned enough courage to clean the dust out from under my bed -- this is a bit of a mission because I store an awful lot of stuff there, and it all has to be moved so the bed can be folded into the wall. But it's all done now -- and I discovered that since the bootfair there is less junk down there, and it's all more neatly packed now, too.

1. Getting into a character's head and hearing their voice as I type. 2. We watched Trinity Theatre Club's Summer Lightning , an adaptation by Giles Havergal of a PG Wodehouse novel. The script (and the scenery) acknowledge the story's roots -- characters often break off to describe themselves in Wodehouseian terms and the scenery has a curiously painted paper look to it. 3. Looking at a huge project and feeling that it can be done, and knowing you have a friend to help you out.

1. Walking into work, Oli remarked that he could feel the pollen in the air. There was a certain sweet smell in the car park, and the lime tree just outside was buzzing with flies and bees. In the evening walking across town, I passed a garden that wafted the scent of buddleja, and the park was full of lavender. 2. I've been joining in at Postcrossing and today I got a card from a lady in Japan. I asked for Three Beautiful Things and she has shared: The letter reached... The flower of the veranda bloomed. One problem of the work decreased. Each one is illustrated with a little picture, and the rest of the card contains the same poetic English. Plus there are two gorgeous stamps -- one of a Geisha and one of cartoon rabbit postman. 3. Through the magic of Freecyle , I now have a sliderule. There are some good people out there.