Marmite, books and pears.

1. Buttery Marmite toast.

2. A parcel arrives -- it's a packet of books that I ordered from the marvellous Hunt Emerson's shop. They are signed and doodled and there is a scattering of stickers and a CD of his music. The thought that a famous artist would go to all this trouble brings a lot of joy. 

3. Some not very nice pears become sweet and soft when stewed with some frozen raspberries.

Poetry, confidence and quip.

1. To move lines of poetry around the page.

2. While we are waiting for pick-up, one of Alec's friends confides something that is bothering him.

3. To come up with a quip for a character at games night.

Boots, bluebells and robins.

1. I am looking for a fallen hairclip but  find an entire career of outgrown football boots. Nick promises to wash them and put them on a neighbourhood group so that other boys can get some use out of them.

2. In a copse, a drift of bluebells.

3. The loud song of a robin startles us.

Cleavers, cells and ghost.

1. The children pick bundles of succulent green sticky grass and chase each other with it.

2. Alec has filled two more cells in his blank comic book.

3. To remember that there is a final Battersea Poltergeist episode that I have not listened to yet.

Hug, book and sunset.

1. I hug Nick because I am frazzled. Alec wriggles in between us: he doesn't want to be left out. 

2. I'm starting to think the book we are reading is a bad fit, as it is about an Edwardian teenage girl having Edwardian teenage girl problems with her place in the world and her hunger for a better education. It is, though, exquisitely written. I ask them what they think and they both say they are enjoying it and don't want to stop.

3. The west-facing windows of the houses on the hill reflect soft pink light from the setting sun.

Normal, not sticky and marshmallows.

1. I have an enormous, exciting job on at the moment, but they don't need me this morning. It makes me remember why my boring normal routine is my  normal routine. 

2. The rainstorms are clearing the sticky aphids off the acer. It's a bit hard on the aphids, but it means I can garden without getting gluey residue all over me.

3. Alec is doing campfire cooking with Cubs, so we let Bettany toast a marshmallow over the gas ring.

Gulls, released and confidence.

1. Seagulls hanging in the sky, straining against the wind.

2. To be released from a meeting earlier than expected.

3. Alec tells me and Bettany that everyone knows two people in his class are in love because they keep staring at each other in lessons. 'We don't know why they don't just get together,' he says. We spend some time thinking up things that might be keeping them apart.

Potion book, get out of the bathroom and storm.

1. Bettany shows me her potion book and a jar with fallen flowers from the park floating in it.

2. Alec wants me to help with his wash, but also to leave him alone in the bathroom to get on with it.

3. On a night when the weather is throwing itself against the house to pull the covers over myself and take refuge in sleep.

Deer, orchids and haircut.

1. Nick reports that as they were going to school he and the children saw a deer standing on the common.

2. I don't have much time for chores today, but putting a drop of rainwater on the orchids doesn't take long, and I feel as if I've done my bit of gardening.

3. Watching Bettany reappear as her haircut progresses.

Hiding, shower and tease.

1. To shut out the world with a meditation podcast. (I recommend Moon Lover's Meditations.)

2. A little rain dampens the garden. I'll still have to do my watering, though.

3. Bettany teasing Alec and me about our city-building video game by pretending she's interested in trading with us.

Walking back, broccoli forest and end.

1. To walk back with another mum and our boys.

2. The children sticking broccoli spears in their mashed potato to make a forest.

3. The moment an alarm stops.

Stroopwaffle, streamers and starling.

1. Waming a stroopwaffle over my cup of coffee.

2. Across the field I can see Bettany and her Beavers playing with red and yellow streamers.

3. One starling in the playground has a worm. The other smaller starling wants it.

 

Fairy house, sticks and bread.

1. Bettany has dabbed spots on her toadstools in thick white paint and now it is time to arrange them in her fairy house. [Fairy house kit by Freckles]

2. The children running through the common chasing each other with sticks.

3. The smell of warm bread coming up the stairs.

Greeting, lost doll and sleepy.

1. My massage therapist's elbow bump greeting.

2. Bettany is howling because she has lost a tiny doll at the park. I give her the cat that sits near my desk to hold and she gradually cheers up, but continues grumbling quietly about her loss for the rest of the evening.  

3. To feel soft and sleepy after listening to an episode of Moon Lover's Meditation podcast.

Over, haul and pudding.

1. For some weeks I've been fretting quietly about chairing a fiction editors' discussion over Zoom. Now it's done, and I was really lucky to have some supportive helpers. We think it went well. 

2. Nick shows off his haul from the new Lidel.

3. Bettany has invented a surprise pudding -- chilled malt loaf pieces with purple icing and sprinkles. At least she's showing an interest in cooking.

Haircut, puppy and weeding.

1. I come downstairs to find Nick has been to the barbers and now has a velvety head.

2. You miss an awful lot when you're in a hurry. There's a woman walking in the park with a black labrador puppy, all big feet and soft, unformed features. She looks like she expects a compliment and a chat -- but I can't stop today.

3. The clear patch of ground that I have just weeded. 

Together, weeding and oxalis.

1. To sit cuddling both children as we get ready to face our days.

2. I spend ten minutes weeding in the front garden and get a good neighbour chat while I do it.

3. Tiny oxalis plants seem too  delicate to push their soft green leaves and spindly stems out of the leaf litter along the base of the park fence -- and yet there they are.

Stock, cricket ground and happily occupied.

1. To return to my chicken stock and find the carcass has fallen quietly apart.

2. The cricket ground feels more like itself now the soil has dried out and the daisies have appeared round the edges. In winter, walking round feels like an intrusion at a time when the place would prefer not to be seen.

3. Nick tells me later that Alec had a little smile on his face throughout his online art class.

Brisk wind, baby news and silent companion.

1. Our coats dry fairly quickly in the brisk wind that has got up following the shower. 

2. To get news that a friend has had her baby.

3. While I am working, Alec comes up and quietly reads a comic nearby.

Curled buds, come with and dance.

1. The curled buds of tulips hiding among the leaves.

2. To my surprise, Alec says he'd like to come with me.

3. Bettany's dance camp can't do the usual end of session show, but they perform one of the dances  -- 'Stick it to the Man' from School of Rock in the car park, and it's glorious to see how much a good teacher can achieve in two days. 

Buzzards, dance camp and fairy forest.

1. To catch sight of buzzards circling.

2. To collect a smiling Bettany from her dance camp.

3. To find a cushion of moss that looks like a fairy forest. 

Unexpected snow, orange jelly and giggles.

1. The moment between opening the blind to see unexpected snow and realising that it is going to spoil your plans for the day.

2. Bettany has made orange jelly with peaches in it for supper pudding.

3. I get the giggles during writing group.

Snip, bath and satisfactory work.

1. To snip off a few dead hyacinth heads in the garden.

2. Alec announces that he will be taking a bath this evening. And can he listen to a podcast. He suggests I'm Sorry I haven't a Clue, and promises that all the rude jokes go over his head. 

3. To have spent an entire weekend focusing on my own writing with a Solus Or virtual retreat.

Joke, watering and tired.

1. My goddaughter has been sending us daily jokes. Today she picks one that Bettany suggested. What is the Sheriff of Nottingham's favourite dessert? Robin Pud.

2. The little can I use to water the orchids makes a soft glugging sound.

3. The children are very tired out from their bike ride in the forest and they are mellow and cuddly rather than keyed up and in denial.

Call, game and cardboard VR.

1. A courteous call early on to say that work will not be coming today. It's annoying not to have the money -- but it's lovely to have the time back and the looser schedule.

2. It is so unpleasantly cold out that we don't linger, but hurry home to wait for Nick there. Alec asks if I will play on the Xbox with him in this spare slip of time, so I do. 

3. Throughout the day Alec comes upstairs to tell me about and finally show me the virtual reality headset he is making out of a cardboard box and the iPad.

Comfort, prize and snowflakes.

1. I've been pushing forward withe a project that is outside my comfort zone -- helping to organise a professional development event -- and now I'm tired and aching and anxious. It is very cheering to snuggle in with the children, who are lying in bed reading. 

2. Bettany is of the opinion that she deserves a prize for trying to be less bad tempered. Luckily I have a spare Frozen pop-up pencil, which she likes very much.

3. I should be working but I am watching flurries of snowflakes whirling across town.

Out, weather and slow to start.

1. To put on my shoes and leave the house.

2. Is that snow?

3. Lloyd Alexander's The Book of Three is excruciatingly slow to start, as tedious Prince Gwydion infodumps a load of nation-level back story and central casting farmboy Taran moans about his identity crisis. As I read it to the children I can see why Alec has abandoned it. But then Gurgi and Eilonwy turn up, and the story seems to come alive. I think it's the character-level conflict: poor Taran can hardly bring himself to associate with either of them, but he has to, or he can't move forward -- and it's like the lights have gone on in the story. 

Chocolate for breakfast, visit and in the woods.

1. To eat large pieces of Easter egg for breakfast.

2. My parents come to visit for the first time in over a year to sit in the garden, drink Champagne and see how much the children have grown.

3. In the April woods, still bare but so very nearly in leaf, to see the children running about among the trees, now behind us, now ahead.

Buds, call to work and Easter box.

1. I spot a few buds on the bare stems of the wisteria. 

2. Towards the end of the day, a pleasant conversational call about some work.

3. Bettany plays on the floor with the coloured eggs and toy rabbits, lambs and chicks that we've brought out of the Easter box.  

 

Other editors, glam and disconcerting shoot.

1. As always it is good to talk with other editors, even if it is in yet another Zoom meeting.

2. Bettany asks me to help her look like a diva for her dance class watching week. She wants hair chalk and eye shadow and glitter on her cheeks, and will I paint her nails.

3. I notice a strange waving.... thing in one of the pots of sunflower seedlings. It looks like the shoot of some disconcerting alien fungus but as I look I notice wings and eyes. It's a small cranefly emerging from it's pupa.

Greeting, eggs and hot cross buns.

1. On this warm spring morning, with restrictions newly lifted, an older man greets me with a jaunty 'Fine day!'

2. A tree decked out with little eggs. Bettany loves a good Easter tree, althought she is less fond of walking, but perhaps I can tempt her out here  soon.

3. The smell of toasting hot cross buns.

Bulbs, walking time and reviews..

1. Candy pink tulips, still streaked with green, have popped out now. In the middle of the pot the deep velvet blue hyacinths are still going, scenting the back garden. 

2. Robert and I walk across the Common to pick up the children from school: peaceful time to catch up.

3. Our writing group has a lot of fun this evening. We're writing product reviews, with a focus on the absurd. The laughter and lightness are a relief and a joy.

Baby, brother and coloured cakes.

1. A message from my mother to say that Rosey has had her baby.

2. A call from my brother to say he has arrived home safely from Antarctica.

3. Bettany's rainbow fairy cakes come out of the oven and they are much brighter and more beautiful than I expected.

Cross off, wren and Word glitch.

1. I drop off a parcel and cross a nagging task off my list.

2. In the park to catch sight of an impossibly small red-brown wren with its tail stuck up in the air.

3. I ask for help with a Word glitch on an editing forum and get a whole host of helpful tips and explanations.

Yellow, cheese and sketch.

1. Patches of yellow blossom have appeared on the bare twigs of the forsythia hedge.

2. At supper Nick puts the cheese board on the table.

3. Alec sitting in bed working away in his sketchbook-journal.

Sick day, leaving cakes and journal.

1. Poor Alec is sick, so we keep him off school. It means a lot to me that we can do this without worrying about work commitments.

2. It's fun to leave a couple of cakes on a friend's doorstep.

3. To see that I am approaching the last pages of the journal that I use for gaming notes. It makes the sense of time passing tangible, and helps me remember the sociable times we've had playing together.

Coffee, cleaning and chocolate eggs.

1. A really good cup of coffee shop coffee and a socially distanced walk on the common.

2. It is satisfying to clean grime off white-painted window crosspieces.

3. Bettany interrupts my work to ask very nicely if she can have a few extra mini eggs for her Beavers activity -- making chocolate crispy nests.

Loaf, recyling and brownie.

1. Alec is hungry and cuts himself a cheeky slice off the end of the loaf that I have just brought out of the breadmaker.

2. To discover that Amazon will give me a little bit of cash for my very old Kindles.

3. Eating a small piece of Bettany's brownie after supper.

Pram, scone and calm.

1. I spot a personal trainer working with a mother who has a pram parked off to one side.

2. The children have picked out a maple and pecan drop scone from the new bakery. Nick brings it up on a plate with a cup of tea and it is delicious.

3. Often dress-up days at school are just stressful with tantrums and last-minute costume changes. But this evening the children talk about what they want to wear tomorrow and help me find it and name it.

Loan, unscripted and long.

1. As I am coming home from my walk I fall in with a neighbour. We end up discussing roleplaying games, and by the time I step through our door I'm holding a brand new game that he'd like me to take a look at.

2. Half listening to Bettany chuntering away to herself in the bath. She making a pretend YouTube video about potions.

3. Alec folds his improbably long body on to my lap for a cuddle before bed.

Hum, no rush and vaccinated.

1. Bettany, as usual, claims that she didn't like the film we sat her in front of while she recovers from a bug. Not one of the songs, and none of the characters met her approval. But later I heard a snatch of a tune muttered under her breath.

2. The clock on the station tower tells me that I've timed it right so there is no need to hurry up the hill.

3. Nick got the call earlier today that he can have his first dose of vaccine. When he returns at supper time to say all done, he's bought parcels from the new cheese shop to celebrate.  

Tiny gardens, ghosts and tiny island.

1. Showing Bettany a few of the things growing in the garden, including the vigorous crop of lambs lettuce growing around her fairy house. Another fairy garden, a shallow pan, has filled with mossy humps and hummocks.

2. To sit with Alec chatting about the Usborne Book of Ghosts, which was much prized when I was little,  and has recently been reprinted.

3. We stumble across the story of Palmerston Island: an English sailor founded a dynasty that still lives there today. If you haven't tried the Radio Garden app, by the way, it's well worth your time. It allows you to navigate a world of radio stations on a globe map.

Cousin call, break through and time.

1. The way my sister's toddler asks for Alec and Bettany as soon as the call starts.

2. One of the steps in the archaelogy course Nick and I are doing is to try copying the shale pendant found at Starr Carr. I have a go at drilling a piece of slate using a flint. The moment I break through is remarkably satisfying.

3. We've gone for a slide-in-the-oven ready meal this evening, which means there is time to relax before supper.

Sprouts, reading and artefact.

1. The marvel of finding a sprouted acorn at the bottom of the compost heap. But also the beanstalks that have grown on the kitchen windowsill from hard dry beans. 

2. Alec takes over reading our book when my voice gets tired. We end up discussing the best voices to use for the different characters.

3. Nick and I sit in bed marvelling over the stone age pendant found at Starr Carr. It seems like science fiction to experience an object remotely -- but that's the power of skilled observation and thoughtful analysis by expert archaeologists.

Easier than expected, together and orange slices.

1. I need to deal with officialdom. I'm patient and persistent, and it is much easier than expected.

2. After lunch, Nick and I change the children's beds. Housework is much easier when there's two of you doing it.

3. To bring bright slices of blood orange to the supper table. They warm the room on this wet night when darkness fell early.

Tea, exercise and houseplants.

1. When I come downstairs there is a cup of tea waiting for me.

2. I really didn't want to exercise this morning, but the storytelling on Zombies Run! is just that good. 

 

3. To gather our few houseplants in the bath and wash the dust off their leaves.

Return, cutting and shanty.

1. With enormous relief we send the children back to school. 

2. To show Alec how to take a cutting from a leggy lemon-scented geranium.

3. At bathtime Bettany is singing a fragment of The Wellerman, which she says she's picked up from an advert. It's fun to play a few different versions so she can learn the rest of the words. 

My daffodil, way and PTA.

1. The first daffodil in my north-facing front garden has opened. I know there have been daffs in the supermarket for weeks, and they are all over other people's gardens -- but this one is my own.

2. Because we are breaking in the children's new shoes we walk to Nana's along the road. It's boring, but very quick, and it makes me appreciate our usual ramble through the woods.

3. The PTA is making a tiny surprise for each of our children on their first day back to school. I can't help out this time, so I didn't join in, but I can see the buzz on the WhatsApp group and I so much appreciate their energy and enthusiasm.

Height, parcel and ghost.

1. When I come downstairs Bettany makes me stand against the wall so she can measure my height for her maths worksheet. 

2. Our friends send us a surprise Ocado delivery of olives, chocolate eggs and Champagne as lockdown loosens.

3. Listening to the finale of The Battersea Poltergeist on BBC Radio 4. I'm still in #teamonthefence. I find the storytelling around hauntings fascinating, much more so than the levitating girls and teleporting objects; and this series covered it really skillfully and ethically.

Fog, coffee and learning.

1. It is a very misty morning, so that the buildings across the car park are barely there. I tell Alec about the time when he was a very tiny boy and called me to look out of the window on a foggy morning because he did not understand what had happened to the world.

2. The sound of Nick's tread on the stairs -- he is bringing me coffee while I work.

3. To sit in bed doing a few tasks on an e-learning archaelogy course with Nick. 

Down/up, tomatoes and compost.

1. The beans have put out hairy roots and leggy stems.

3. Bettany quietly eats most of the tomatoes I sliced to go with our lunch. She enquires about a flavoured salt I had forgotten to put on the table.

2. Under the dry leaves is compost ready to use, and the rotted stem is all that remains of our pumpkin.

Spontaneous cuddles, parcel of books and ship tracker.

1. When the children go back to school I will miss the spontaneous cuddles.

2. A parcel of books arrives -- this time I've ordered things I actually want to read, rather than books I should be reading. 

2b. The whole school is studying a picture-only book called Journey by Aaron Becker as part of World Book Day, and I ordered a copy. The children have only seen it on screen and Bettany in particular is very excited to have our own book.

3. To use a ship tracker to see Uncle Rob's progress towards home.

Plastic tut, alone and wave.

1. We passed a box of 'free to a good home' things on our walk. Bettany picked up a plastic toy that might be a tiki bar. She has been playing with it ever since, adding characters to it from our 'people' jar.

2. In the woods I steal away for a moment alone.

3. As we are crossing the road a friend drives past waving wildly.

Strawberry smell, easy errand and crocuses.

1. There is an unnatural strawberry smell in the High Street that puts a smile on my face because it reminds me of something that I coveted as a child (not sure what, just that I didn't have it and wanted it very much).

2. An errand I expected to be complicated turns out to be pretty simple.

3. There is a mist of purple at the bottom of The Grove where the crocuses have come.

Light, air and roots.

1. This morning without being asked Alec opens the shutters of our bedroom so I have enough light to type.

2. To open a window and feel new air hurrying into the room.

3. My beans have put down roots.

Break, shortbread and dust.

1. Even though I don't particularly want to, I take my five minute stretching breaks after each hour of work.

2. A piece of Bettany's shortbread arrives on my desk at tea time.

3. To slide fluff out of the dustpan and into the bin.

Shortbread, tired and world radio.

1. I come down to dinner and find that Bettany has made more shortbread. 

2. The children are very tired after a day of schooling -- to hear them call that they are turning out their lights half an hour earlier than usual.

3. To spend a cheerful twenty minutes playing around with Radio Garden, as recommended by my writing group. It allows you to navigate the world's radio stations on a zoomable map. We listen to Japanese morning radio, and wheezy men in the north Pacific discussing what women want in various decades, and catch the last sentence of a chilling tale from the Isle of Skye, and a cheery woman talking in Faroese, punctuated by the occasional 'hallelujah'.

Iris, shortbread and flowers in the woods.

1. Before breakfast the iris is a dark spike. After, it is three flashes of deep purple and lemon yellow.

2. To leave Bettany making shortbread while I do some cleaning tasks in the kitchen. 

3. On the far bank, across from a memorial bench, someone has planted snowdrops. In another place, there are crocuses at the side of a busy path.

Memory, viewing and rover.

1. Alec tells us at dinner that his happiest memory is waking up hungry in the middle of the night and coming downstairs with Daddy to eat rice pudding,  

2. We snuggle into the big bed to watch Carradine's Cockney Singalong live -- because it's half term and we don't have to worry about bedtimes.

3. News that the Mars rover has landed successfully filters into the merry-making.

Banana bread, chocolate and reading aloud.

1. Banana bread warmed in the oven.

2. In the middle of the afternoon when I am deep in work, Nick produces a piece of chocolate from some secret place.

3. Reading aloud to Alec from Lord of the Rings. Frodo and Sam are almost at the mountain. This section has a lot of topographical description which I find as much of a slog as the two hobbits did. But Alec continues after I must stop and later that evening he calls out to me that they've arrived at the mountain.

Pancakes, blackbird at twilight and crow.

1. Nana, Alec and Nick make pancakes for us all to mark Shrove Tuesday.

2, The glassy evening call of a blackbird.

3. We finally get to watch the Upstart Crow Christmas Special. From 2018. We'll watch the 2020 one later this week.

Knock, plan and waiting.

1. The postman has to knock this morning because he has a heavy book parcel.

2. To make a pancake plan -- we're taking ourselves and our pancake pan to Nana's in the afternoon. 

3. After 9pm, I finally get to listen to the new episode of the The Battersea Poltergeist that dropped this morning.

Chocolate at breakfast time, pockets and not Pink Floyd.

1. Eating chocolate at breakfast time because it's Valentine's Day.

2. My mother-in-law has put a pocket in my previously pocketless pyjamas.

2. In the end we have to Google it, because Alec is so, so sure that Pink Floyd is responsible for 'Baby Shark'.

Rosey cheeks, behind and crackle.

1. When we go inside the children's cheeks turn bright pink. 

2. Turning round to look back at the sunset through the trees.

3.Walking on frozen mud and feeling it crackle under my boots.

Small tasks, snow and dance.

1. Today is a rest day: I spend a little time reading for fun after breakfast, and focus on small tasks and easy targets for the rest of the day.

2. We wake to a sprinkling of snow that is quickly gone and then enjoy a day of pretty flurries with large, feathering flakes.

3. Bettany bars me from her dance class watching week -- but five minutes before the end she comes and finds me for the final dance and I get to see the little Bettany dance smile that is, really, what I pay for when the dance class invoice comes in (although I am not allowed to join in because I'm still in my pyjamas).

Ice rink, eggs and saved.

1. Watching people negotiating and navigating the car park behind our house. It is lan ice rink and I like all the different narratives -- two teenage boys with cans of drink deliberately walking up the most challenging part; 4WD vehicles going straight into a space; timid drivers thinking better of it; the dustcart coming by as if it's just an ordinary day; a dad with a tiny child on his shoulders; brisk ladies in bright puffer jackets with walking poles.

2. Nick has been experimenting with eggs by baking them in the oven. 

3. I have a long-awaited medical appointment in Tonbridge today, the first time I have had an urgent need to leave Tunbridge Wells since the start of the pandemic. It is snowing and there are no trains. My dad comes to give me a lift.

Snow, Harriet and one minute.

1. The park, frosted with an inch of snow, is empty and we are the first ones into the playground. We make footprints along the paths, and the children collect icicles to decorate their snowman.

2. We come to the end of our reading book, Harriet The Spy. It's quite a gruelling read, about a child navigating a huge life change as well as conflict and bullying at school, but we were swept along by the deft, light writing. And it let us talk in a non-urgent way about bullying and lies and truth and fiction and child neglect and snobbery and all sorts of things. It's one of those books that has jokes aimed at adults -- I read it as a child and I could tell there were things going over my head, and I'm so glad I've read it again, because it's very funny on that level, too. 

3. The exercise we do in writing is a revelation -- write a sentence in one minute to a particular prompt. A minute is ages in terms of a sentence, and it makes me think that, really, no little slip of time is too short for a writing session.

Early, snow and hot chocolate.

1. I've woken early and can't sleep so I go downstairs for breakfast. After a little while the children join me, scratching their hair into sleepy spikes, rubbing their eyes and complaining that the kitchen lights are too bright.

2. To glance up and see that snow is falling outside.

3. Alec asks for hot chocolate. To tell him that he can make it himself, if he likes -- so he does.

Green footpath sign, progress and bin.

1. After a short stretch of road walking, to find the little green footpath sign pointing into the hedge.

2. To look across the valley and see the way we have just come.

3. The children come scampering up the stairs to take my bin away for emptying. They argue in whispers about bringing it back and in the end one brings it and places it at the end of my desk; then the other takes it away and brings it back a second time. 

Ginger cake, sunset and stirfry.

1. Alec runs upstairs to show me that he has obtained Granny's ginger cake recipe.

2. A sunset that turns the sky a deep orange-red that I didn't expect to see in nature. As the year turns towards spring the sunset moves out of view from my window. This week I have to crane to see it.

3. The pleasure Nick takes in his purple cabbage stirfry.

Can do, birdsong and prints.

1. Before he leaves Nick tells me that I'll have to print Bettany's maths sheet for her. When the time comes, Bettany points out rather tiredly that I can't print a PDF directly from Teams. 'You have to click those three dots to download it and then print it.' Which makes me wonder if she actually needs help doing this at all.

2. In a quiet moment I can hear birdsong from my desk.

3. After a day of looking at words to focus on a book of Hiroshige's prints.

Time passes, parcels and dates.

1. To look up from work and find that an hour has passed. 

2. A few parcels arrive -- I did my invoicing last week and now I've been paid so I could buy a few bits that I need.

3. To flip through an almanac checking what is going on in February -- Mars can be seen close to the moon in the middle of the month; there's imbolc, candlemass as well as St Valentine's Day; and the Chinese Year of the Ox begins.

Catkins, sit down and dusting.

1. To pick a few small sprigs of hazel catkins for Nana. 

2. Alec finds his hoovering work so exhuasting that he has to have a little sit down between areas of floor.

3. To finally get the high thread of cobweb  ont the landing that has been bothering me for a week.

View, downhill and waiting.

1. We come to the spot in the forest which I think of as Instagram Corner because it features in so many shots of wholesome family activities. There is already a man sitting on the bench breathing deeply. We keep our distance and stand watching rain clouds coming in from Sussex.  

2. Alec says that when they came here on a school trip, everyone spread out and ran down this hill.

3. I'd told everybody that we were going on a proper walk with no stopping but somehow we end up standing around watching the children poking clots of dead leaves out of a stream. 

Fan theory, bath and phone conversation.

1. Bettany earnestly tells us about a Frozen fan theory she has discovered today. 

2. Alec lowers his lanky limbs into the bath until nothing is showing among the bubbles except his head.

3. A long refreshing phone call with a friend.

Crossover, more important and talk.

1. I hit send on an email to my goddaughter and see that while I was writing her mother had sent me a message.

2. 'No, Mummy, cuddling you is more important.'

3. Our neighbour calls me because she is upset about the trees behind our house being taken down. Talking it over helps us put our feelings  into words that we can -- perhaps -- use to help repair this situation.

Morning walk, piper and Burns Night.

1. On a crisp morning to leave the house alone and just walk.

1b. Alec comes up to tell me about a time-management disaster -- PE, assembly, a picture of a Mayan temple and all this English, and I've only got ten minutes. (I find out later that he's been sending gifs to his friend on messenger instead of getting on with his school work.) To tell him to take the easiest task first and let the rest follow. I'm hoping that perhaps these low-stakes experiences will help him avoid rougher times in future. 

2. There is an Australian playing the Star War March on bagpipes in Bettany's Beavers meeting -- because of course there is.

3. To settle on the sofa with Nick and watch BBC Scotland's Burns Night concert. Eddi Reader's wild Charlie is My Darling has always been a bit of a favourite on my playlist, but I can't bear to listen to her achingly sad John Anderson except on this one night. 

Snow day, lap and origami.

1. It snows a tiny bit -- hard white pellets that are nearly hail and just enough to turn the ground white, but not for very long. The children run outside to the carpark and play in it before it vanishes.

2. Alec is almost too grown to sit on my lap, but he still finds a way to arrange himself.

3. I open an origami book on a project that calls for paper we don't have. But somehow, because Bettany wants to do it, we end up experimenting, and tweaking until we've made it.

Birdsong, contact and early bed.

1. The wind is still high but I can hear birdsong behind it, despite everything.

2. To half-listen to Bettany on a Zoom call chatting with one of her friends.

3. To go to bed early and just read.

Meal plan, sharpen and dark blue undersheet.

1. Alec checks the meal plan to make sure I've included the pasties he wants to cook for us.

2. To put a new edge on a kitchen knife and then use it to slice a tomato.

3. 'I feel like a playboy,' says Nick as he replaces the white sheet on our bed with a dark blue one. But playboys miss out on brushed cotton duvet sets, so we're one up on them. And it's possible that bedmaking is not part of the playboy lifestyle.

Tea, shut and chart.

1. There is a cup of tea waiting for me on the breakfast table.

2. I habitually make a point of keeping the shutters by my desk open until it gets dark so I can get a better idea of day and night -- but today Storm Christoph hits the back of the house and cold is rolling off the window into my workspace. It is a relief to shut that  out. 

3. It's very easy to get lost with larger editing projects and to start stressing about meeting deadlines. What really helps is logging progress on a chart that shows roughly how much more I have to do in the time I have.

Independence, pigeon and pictures.

1. We are lying in bed listening to Radio 3 when it becomes clear from the sounds downstairs that the children are getting themselves up and printing off their school work.

2. The pigeon sits in the back garden looking pointedly at us because no-one has opened the door and thrown out a cup of bird seed.

3. We play with surrealist imagery in writing group -- including making our own pictures. None of us are very good at art, but drawing loosens us up and when we write afterwards the resulting pieces are noticeably  uninhibited.

Hazelnut milk, wet woods and rest.

1. There is hazelnut milk to put in my coffee.

2. The woods are unpleasant, wet and muddy, and consequently not as crowded as usual. 

3. I have floated through the weekend in a leisure dream of home improvement TV and Carcassone and jigsaw pieces. On Sunday evening I find myself filling my pen to work at my writing. That, I suppose, is the subtle power of rest.

Small world, new oven and radio.

1. On this wet day the world has shrunk and from my window I can only see as far as the end of the Pantiles.

2. I am summoned downstairs by excited children to look at the dusty space under the worktop where the old oven used to be; and then a few hours later, to see the new oven that has been installed by our landlord.

2b. Alec announces that he wants to have a bath instead of a shower. It turns out that he has no idea how to run a bath; so Bettany does it for him. This has been a common pattern from about the time Bettany could walk, and Nick and I can see it continuing long after we are gone. 

3. I am too tired and grumpy to do anything this evening. I have a radio comedy recommendation sitting among my emails so I dig in with Conversations from a Long Marriage. 

Interruption, snowdrops and crumpets.

1. Two roofers drop over the back fence to look at a couple of leaks. It is funny to be disturbed while I'm working by a man tapping on my third-story window.

2. There are snowdrops pushing white bells out of bare earth in a flowerbed.

3. To butter crumpets for the children's bedtime snack.

Full notebook, new book and remembering a detail.

1. To find my notebook is nearly full, and to wonder how that happened.

2. To start a new book with the children: we're reading Imelda and the Horned Owl, which was written by one of Alec's classmates (helped by her dad, the sci-fi author Andrew Wallace).

3. The games master wonders if we remember the names of some wines which were mentioned in passing during a gaming session back in early summer. Although Tim logs all our adventures on Heropress we all take a few notes as we go, and when I flip back through my gaming diary, I find the winelist -- complete with the modern-day prices we used to give ourselves an idea of the wine quality.

Walk, group and novella.

1. Alec is as terrible a procrastinator as I am, so he agrees to come for a quick healthy walk round the block before starting work. We see kiwi fruit hanging on a vine; a wary dog; swimming pool-blue tiles up a garden path; and we still make it back in time to get our work done.

2. We start a new term of creative writing. It seems like magic that a group of people can organise themselves into a helpful, supportive co-operative, even at such a difficult time as this.

3. It is very satisfying to read a novella because it is over so quickly that I can hold the entire story in my head.

Lego, freezing fog and inventory.

1. To sort through our vast Lego accumulation searching for the particular pieces the children want for the sweetie dispensers they are building.

2. The weather today is something rather magical -- freezing fog. Every twig of every tree is iced with crystals. We nearly miss it because we don't go out until late in the afternoon. As it gets dark the air temperature or humidity shifts a little and the ice falls away.

3. To count the shopping into the larder so I know that our cupboards are ready for the weeks ahead.

Walk, dinner and changing the bed.

1. We walk around a nearly empty park this morning. Bettany writes her name in the frost on the seesaw. I wonder who else will see it on this empty day.

2. When I ask at lunch what the children want for supper they decide immediately and simultaneously that what they would like is a Chinese takeaway. 'With crispy duck pancakes,' says Alec quickly. I order a set menu... and job done.

3. As my hour bell goes off Nick comes up the stairs to change the bed, so I get up from my desk and help him smooth sheets and shake pillows.

Revelation, printer and tax return.

1. To keep myself motivated I am working through a writing course.* I try a technique that seems really basic, that I learnt years ago as a way to fix a story that seems broken -- but suddenly I understand how to apply it much earlier in the process, and it is a complete revelation.

2. To hear the printer working when it has been rather unreliable.

3. We get our tax returns done. This is a task that hangs over us every year -- but it never takes that long once you get started. Over the years we've got better at record-keeping, so the information is easy to get hold of.

The course is on Domestika, with Shaun Levin. It's titled Creative Writing for Beginners -- but I always think that with writing it's worth going back to basics from time to time.

Musical beds, homefront and decorations.

1. I wake up in Bettany's single bed because she turned up in our bed in the middle of the night, kicking the covers off and wriggling between us. First thing Alec comes to join me for a moment and I marvel at how tall he has become.

2. PE is a Zombies Run Homefront mission -- thirty minutes for me, fifteen minutes for each child because they fight if they have to do it together. Then I hand them over to Nick for the rest of the day.

3. In the evening Nick and I take down the Christmas decs and afterwards our house seems huge and tidy.

Almond biscuit, easy meals and announcement.

1. Dipping an almond biscuit in my coffee.

2. I resent the amount of weekend time I need to spend cooking -- but I'm always pleased to dig an easy meal out of the freezer in the shape of a box of frozen tomato mince or parsnip soup for Nick to serve up later in the day.

3. We bring the children downstairs to see the prime minister announcing the new lockdown. It's unpleasant, discouraging news, but it seems important for them to see it. 

Gingerbread, hideaway and Marnie.

Sorry for the unannounced break. I was ill right before Christmas, and then, you know, Christmas happened. I needed a complete break from everything. But I'm back at my desk now.

1. We eat the last pieces of the gingerbread, rather rich and spicy, that we got for Christmas. 

2. Nick gets supper, and finding myself not needed in the kitchen I hide away upstairs to read a bit of my book.

3. We are reading When Marnie was There, which Bettany chose partly to annoy Alec because it didn't look very exciting. But we are enjoying it all the same, with much speculation about who Marnie is and asking so many questions about why Anna behaves as she does. I never liked it particularly as a child, finding it puzzling and a bit intense, although my own childhood copy has survived cull after cull of my books. Reading it now, though, I can see that it is very well put together and its honest treatment of children's emotions and unflinching portrait of parenting a damaged child makes for a compelling and uncomfortable read. There's a studio Ghibli film of it, which we might watch together.