Repair, tunes and shortbread.

1. In the dark garden last night, I noted a pleasant watery noise. But this morning, it is still going on, and it is less pleasant because from my desk I can hear it slapping on the gravel after a long fall from a displaced overflow pipe. Towards the middle of the morning, a black van halts on the double yellows and a man in gym kit gets out. He stretches out an extending ladder and makes a two-minute repair with plumber's tape. Job done.

2. It turns out that Alec has never heard 'The Next Right Thing' from Frozen 2, so we listen to it, and some other music and one thing leads to another; and now I have Blur's 'Ong Ong' as an earworm.

3. My shortbread works out all right -- probably because this time I've properly internalised the idea that cornflour and corn starch are different things.

Attention, mites and no longer there.

1. A mother exclaims with exaggerated joy, trying to get the attention of her toddler, who is balanced like a flour sack on a smart trike being pushed by dad. The trike bell sounds ting-ting even when they are out of sight.

2. A drab little tit bird chases mites not visible to us on the white back wall.

3. After a good declutter, I almost fall over my feet trying to step round a crate of books that is no longer there. (Oxfam Books, we'll be seeing a lot of you in the next few days!)

Growing things, scone and cherries.

1. Taking a breath of garden air first thing I see that the sunflowers seeds in Bettany's pots have put up their heads.

2. We discover that Alec's school offers a scone with clotted cream as a breaktime snack option, which seems very fancy -- but also, very understanding of what schoolboys really appreciate.

3. I remember last thing at night that there are cherries in the freezer that would go well with the waffles and chocolate spread the children have planned for breakfast. I go downstairs in the dark and put them ready.

Toadflax, blackbird sings and going over.

1. Shout out to my frenemy toadflax (Cymbalaria muralis): a pernicious weed that quickly smothers a container and is hard to eradicate because it grows from tiny pieces of root and drops its seeds very readily... but also pretty with its mauve and yellow flowers, and it has a dramatic habit of growing straight out of an inhospitable vertical surface.

2. On the aerial two doors up, a blackbird sings for anyone who is listening. Two sparrows sitting just below mock it with raucous shouts of 'TWEET!'

3. Rather low, a vintage aircraft goes straight overhead, heading across the clear sky to the coast. It's airshow season.

Evening cricket, no-mow May and train coming.

1. Through the laurels, the sound of men playing evening cricket.

2. The grass is shimmered with buttercups and stands of grass heads in all their varied glory. I really appreciate no-mow May.

3. Then we run back because a train is going under the bridge we've just crossed.

Paper, snails and nectarines.

1. To my astonishment, they have A5 pads, unpunched and with no margins -- just the way I like them -- in The Range.

2. Snails, bothered by my gardening activities, wave their horns from the high places in the compost heap. 

3. It's the time of year for nectarines and peaches that are perfectly ripe and juicy to an undignified degree.

Passing through, cakes and drowned out.

1. A low sound from the sky: a helicopter flies straight on overhead, taking its troubles elsewhere.

2. At teatime, remembering that we have a tin of chocolate rice crispie cakes.

3. The TV's dialogue is nearly drowned by the birdsong from outside. We have to turn up the sound and draw the curtains.