Three Beautiful Things

1. I come home from work at lunchtime and get a proper hug from Alec. He seems heftier, some how -- more barrelly around the chest. He's been feeding and feeding, but surely he can't have grown that much in three hours. 2. My mother comes into the kitchen to see how supper is doing. "Watch the baby," she says to my father. "I can't do that!" he says. "Just make sure he doesn't fall off the sofa," she tells him. 3. I've mentioned before, I think, how my first manager used to say to me at the end of the day: "You've worked well today, Clare" (if I had, I  mean -- she wasn't the sort to hand out praise that wasn't deserved). Today, when I turn off the lap top and tell Nick I'm going to bed, I feel I can say it to myself.

1. To pick out a box of chocolates to say thank you. 2. To make Alec laugh by blowing in his face. 3. Frying thin slices of sausage until they are crispy.

1. Nick is standing under an oak tree watching cricket. I am picking blackberries. It's raining. Nick says later that this is England summed up -- all we needed was some Vaughan Williams playing in the background. 2. I love the broken crimson of bramble leaves when summer is wearing thin. 3. The sweet wild smell of stewing blackberries.

1. Alec is up early, unlike his poor old dad. I dress quickly and take him out for breakfast at a cafe that I like very much but normally avoid because it's not baby-appropriate. Since it's so early for a Saturday, we're the only people in. Alec sits on my knee and we share my porridge -- I feed him using the vintage teaspoon from my hot chocolate. 2. There music on the Pantiles this weekend -- Local and Live  organised by Paul Dunton, who is like Beau Nash for the 21st century -- and we go along to enjoy the spectacle. We park Alec up in his pushchair and while his attention is elsewhere, do some kissing -- it is a festival, after all. 3. I hear Alec cry, and I go upstairs, meaning to soothe him back to sleep. But he won't go and he won't go and he won't go. So I bring him down and feed him on the sofa in front of the TV. It's bright and noisy, but he settles and relaxes in a way that he couldn't upstairs in the quiet dark, and finally falls asleep.

Recently Al McCarvery of All Tea Towels  got in touch to ask if I would like to do a review of some tea towels from his site. He has developed his business out of a passion for collecting tea towels. Well, of course if you've been reading for any length of time you know that I am fond of domestic minutiae, and you don't get much more domestically minute than tea towels. I'm also a complete sucker for people with a passion for work-a-day objects -- there's nothing like talking to a collector to help you find magic in the mundane. Al has some gorgeous designs in his shop, and I could have picked out a trousseau's worth if I'd had a mind to. Both my choices are gorgeously printed and luxuriously large. The Scandi folk art design (right) is cotton and the anemone is linen -- I selected one of each fabric in the interests of fairness. I've never been a huge fan of linen tea towels -- my mother has one with a 1978 calender on, so I know they are long-lasting. ...

1. She is busy with a baby and a toddler in three places at once, but she still takes the time to comment on Alec's huge smile as I take him round the pool. 2. I am ravenous -- the baked potato with cheese is very welcome indeed, even if I have to share it with Alec. It's strange to think, I tell Godfather Timothy, that when we first started meeting you here, Alec was eating cubes of puree, and now he's eating off my plate. Soon I'll have to start ordering a separate dish for him. 3. This week Abel and Cole sent us a bag of rainbow carrots, white, orange and yellow -- they look great in fingers at the bottom of the casserole dish.

Sarah Salway has posted a 3BT-style diary of her travels in Vancouver , in which she doesn't burn down Canada. 1. Alec has a day of people making a fuss of him. I've got errands in various offices -- a visiting baby always breaks up the work a bit; but also people in the street smile and wave at him, or come up to say how happy he looks. 2. A knot of very tiny children are blocking the gate into the park. "You've got to pay to get in," they tell me. I explain that I've spent all my money on sweets. "Pretend money," they say. Luckily I have lots of that, so I pay for myself and for Alec, and for several people behind me, with crisp pretend £50 notes. 3. My aunt has been trying bookcrossing as part of her 60th birthday challenge . Someone has commented on her blog to say that they found one of her books. How lucky is that -- I've crossed lots of books and not a single person has reported a 'find'.