Waxcaps, beech leaves and my coffee.

1. Bright waxcap mushrooms -- crimson, orange and yellow -- in the veg box today.

2. Beech leaves the colour of rust flakes cover the mud.

3. I'm on my own for coffee, so I have a very large mugful.

Old news, new airer and Halloween tunes.

1. The post includes the new Fortean Times, with a Lord Lucan round-up. It does seem awful that the story is about a badly-raised man of loose moral fibre who made dreadful choices and not the poor nanny who got murdered -- her name was Sandra Rivett.

2. Nick finally buys a new airer as the old one broke beyond repair. It's an updated model of the old one, and it has a lot new features (such as non-slip bars and extending hanger hooks) that he is very excited about.

3. Rachel puts on some spooky music to set the tone for our Ghostbusters Monopoly, and it makes me remember that I have my own Halloween playlist.

High-five, long walk and grey wagtail.

1. We pass a man and his toddler, a tiny chap with white curls wearing a dark blue waterproof suit. We smile at each other and he holds up his hand for a high-five.

2. The path is a straight tunnel of autumn trees, and we almost feel like we can see all the way to our destination.

3. We stop to watch a grey and yellow bird with a long tail where clear water has collected on clots of orange leaves to the side of the path. It plays, dipping its head and shaking its tail and wings to make water drops fly. We take  photos so we can show Grampy for an ID later on.

Ginkgo, battenberg and last of the daylight.

1. To pick up a few ginkgo leaves -- bright yellow, ridged like fingertips.

2. Small battenberg cakes for tea: pink and yellow and very, very sweet.

3. Through the blind slats, the duck egg blue fades out of the sky.

Mushrooms, meat and veggies.

1. I open the fridge for a little gloat over the three types of mushroom -- nameko, maitake and shiitake. I'm ordering in a few each week to learn them, and discover which ones I like best. I like them fried for breakfast, and the words of the mushroom farmer on the Pantiles echo: 'Fry them like really crispy bacon. Mushrooms aren't like anything else. They release more nutrition the more you cook 'em.'

2. Picking the meat off the chicken carcass before it goes into the stockpot.

3. Nick has diced and ribboned an array of vegetables for my noodle soup.

Orange, cyclamen and roast dinner.

1. Fox by Sainsbury's local -- not sure which is more orange and jaunty. But it's just past 4am and the fox is definitely more awake.

2. It's the work of a few minutes to plant out that cyclamen -- swapped earlier this week for a few apples. 

3. The parsnips come out of the oven in pools of caramelised honey.

Autumn morning, you can pay and familiar.

1. Low sun pushes through the mist to illuminate the drops on every branch and stem. 

2. I ask Nick to pay for the cakes we've just bought the children because I can't -- my new phone is not set up quite right yet. This draws the attention of a baker passing behind the counter and there is a bit of joshing.

3. I catch this bus once a month -- to notice familiar faces.

Called, mushrooms and venison.

1. Waiting for prescriptions in the pharmacy, I lose myself in a short story and have to be called -- several times.

2. Lifting the lid on this week's box of mushrooms -- autumn chanterelles and bright orange girolles.

3. Nick has made a venison stew for supper, and it is delicious. 

Beginning late, fog and pigeon on a pot.

1. The radio conjures up Thomas Tallis's Spem in Alium. We lie in the dark and let our day begin late.

2. Our world has become small, swaddled in fog.

3. Pigeon crouched on a warm chimney pot.

Sounds of water, rosemary and new phone.

1. All around, water is sounding as it runs, drips, seeps, trickles and falls.

2. Nick calls up the stairs to draw our attention to the smell of rosemary from the focaccia he is warming in the oven. 

3. The latest iteration of the new phone I've had my eye on is on offer -- for less than I was expecting to pay for last year's model. The men in my life weigh in with their opinions for twenty minutes; and then it's on order.

Parade, mushrooms and up on the common.

1. To follow the puppet parade down the hill. It's strange to see in our everyday town marching crocodiles, a narwhale, a crowd of cardboard rhinos, a hut on chicken legs, cloud sailors, steel plate fish and some cheeky crab people with eyes on stalks. 

2. The mushroom farmer tucks a few extra grey and gold oysters into my bag to go with the bristly white bobbles of lion's mane he has just sold me. 'They're closer to us than they are to plants,' he says, adding that they have all the nutrition of steak and none of the disadvantages.

3. We walk out with Grandpa to see the autumn colours up on the common.

Grasses, spider and spy cameras.

1. Grasses heavy with last night's rain and their own seeds, turning gold as autumn progresses.

2. A spider with a large star on his back has picked a spot by the door -- out of the way, but a place where we can keep an eye on him.

3. He has for reference pictures of Cold War spy cameras. The Soviet model, with its unusual curves and brass fittings, looks like it has slipped into our timeline from an alternate history.

Eggs, company and cards.

1. The sound of four eggs jiggling in the pan.

2. I am asked to sit in the bathroom and spot clean a school uniform -- more for the company than for the cleaning, I think.

3. Then we realise that playing a video game will be complicated -- we will have to buy another copy, set up computers and troubleshoot. Instead, I find a pack of cards and teach him to play rummy.

Going to the bakery early on a Sunday, wet afternoon and loom.

1. It is very early on a Sunday -- I'm the first one up -- but the bakery is open and we need more bread.

2. The best thing to do seems to be to join the sofa-and-blankets party and watch another episode of Wednesday. 

3. I have time and headspace to try the darning loom I got a while back.

Busy dog, tester and it's now.

1. On the lower cricket ground a biscuit-coloured terrier is running back and forth, circling, sniffing, running again.

2. In the chemist, I spray a perfume tester on to my wrists. I don't particularly like the scent, but all day it reminds me that it's there.

3. I've been waiting all day to go out and now I'm hurrying up the hill to meet a friend for a glass of wine and some comedy.

More red fruit, housework and tired.

1. This week, we received even more final raspberries of the year, and they are also delicious, eaten at the end of supper with the last of the meringues.

2. After supper, I've got time to tidy quickly and without thinking too hard.

3. I am so tired at bedtime that I fall asleep almost straight away.

Syrup, spa afternoon and revision.

1. I didn't realise it until now, but there's a syrup jug on the table with a clever pouring spout to prevent drips. I lace the last of my pancakes freely.

2. 'We're having a spa afternoon,' we say to explain our footbath and towels when Alec and his friend tumble through the front door.

3. At the end of the day, to sit and help my eldest revise for a vocab test.

Planner, feathering and not winning.

1. Marking up a new page on my planner -- I can now see how the week will go.

2. With a certain amount of pride, he shows us the feathered chocolate on his millionaire's shortbread.

3. I get dragged into a game of fairy tales top trumps. The deck must be badly balanced, because no one seems to be able to win. In the end, I concede to Bettany's greater will and accept that I have been defeated.