A good evening, disposal and can't see.

1. While I wait in line for the post office counter, the customers at the head of the queue for the shop fill a bag with vapes and vodka and chocolate, commiserating all the while with the assistant about bad wisdom teeth and the long wait for an NHS dentist.

2. It costs almost £4 in postage, but I am very pleased to dispatch a large parcel of well worn tights back to the manufacturer for recycling.

3. Cold at the open back door, I peer into the blue-green sky trying to see what Nick can see -- a fingertip width from Venus, Saturn should be visible. It takes a while and I have to be patient, but eventually the distant planet resolves.

Drape, daisy and beetroots.

1. A milky fog covers the town, tastefully draping the buildings that block our view of the horizon.

2. The little daisy in the awkward spot by the table has put out a defiant January flower.

3. Slipping boiled beetroots out of their skins.

All of the ice, swapping tasks and job done.

1. Here, the ground is frozen into earthy ridges that crumble under my boots; there, I crunch across leftover snow; here again my steps break a crust of ice over a slurry of mud.

2. I roll sausages on to a baking tray while Nick checks the figures I have given HMRC.

3. Saving a copy of my completed tax return, and setting a reminder to pay the bill on Friday. I'm always very happy to get that job done for the year.

Slipping through, forbidden and a really new library book.

1. My eyes haven't woken up yet, but Bettany needs help putting in her earrings. The moment (times two) when the post slips through.

2. She's rather too pleased that her lip balm tube might easily be mistaken for a forbidden lip gloss.

3. I realise that my library book is brand new. 

Perfect morning, treacle tart and just one more chapter.

1. I've had a good lie in, done an hour of work, and now it's time for coffee.

2. Grating lemon rind into a pan of warming golden syrup -- the perfume fills the kitchen.

3. I find myself reading 'just one more chapter' until there is no book left.

Last of the cheese, supper and almanac.

1. One of those January treats -- making a lunch of the last of the Christmas cheese (although it's not the last as we didn't finish it, so we'll have another cheese lunch soon).

2. Up the stairs comes the smell of the veg chilli Nick is making for our supper.

3. Waiting for me at bedtime is Rosen's Almanac, which each day offers a brief consideration of the words and phrases people use in their private lives.

Library, getting warm and a quick loop to see the snow.

1. As I walk in, four librarians startle like a flock of crows, all hoping they can help. 

2. We turn into a coffee shop for comforting milky drinks and teaspoons of cake. Despite the sleet and the dark, we are still a little overheated by the time we get home.

3. After supper, we make a quick loop of the neighbourhood, with wet flakes striking our faces, to see the snow's best effort at settling.