Three Beautiful Things

I've been meaning to mention Louisa's birthday beautiful things -- there are 31 of them to mark the turning of her year. And also, Lucy at Box Elder has been recording her beautiful thing s for a month. She says some very kind things about 3BT in her last post (I hope it's just the last post for now!) and I love the idea of swaddling Baby Badger in something as luxurious as ermine... if only. 1. A sparrow lands on next door's flowering shrub. And another. The first shifts to the next branch. This happens six times in quick succession. Our neighbours put seed on the top of the back wall. 2. Today has been tough. It's such a relief when Nick comes home. I can stop banging my head against a brick wall and start doing something I know I'm good at. 3. Now we have a garden, I have an excuse to watch Gardener's World . Also -- I like seeing Carol Klein on TV. She was a friend of my boss in the gardening magazine days and was one of the loveliest, charming...

1. The cottage across the carpark is covered in scaffolding. Now that the roofers have gone home, the family has climbed up to see the view -- a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The father lifts his teenage daughter on to his shoulders so she can pull ivy off the chimney stack, and she is shrieking and giggling as she stretches up. 2. Nick's mother is so much better -- she has a look of triumph about her; and she's moving to the rehabilitation ward after the weekend. "I just need to be able to lock my knees," she says. We show her Baby Badger's scan pictures and try to work out whether we are looking at ribs or fingers. 3. Across the ward, a nurse strokes a patient's forehead and talks to her gently about where she is. "They're so kind here," says the grandmother of 15 in a pink dressing gown who has stopped to visit. "I don't know how they do it."

1. I'm close to finishing Stephen Baxter's Flood , which I've enjoyed very much. It's an epic about a global flood, seen mostly through the eyes of a group of former hostages linked by a promise to look out for each other. They come under the wing of a super-rich businessman who is determined to keep his genetic line and philosophy alive. I've got a bit of a soft spot for post-apocalypse fiction -- does anyone have any recommendations to add to this Amazon list which I started at some time or other? 2. I like to see the score marks from yesterday's to-do list pressed through on to today's. 3. Nick takes me out for tapas "because we haven't been out for a while."

1. One of my least favourite pregnancy symptoms is the constant peeing. From the start, I lost the ability to make it through the night -- they say it's preparation for the sleep-deprivation to come. The exact time varies -- but this morning, it was around dawn. The sky was shell pink and streaked with con trails, and I was glad that I had seen it. 2. About ten years ago, I had a back problem that caused pain in my hip. I dreamed that the pain was back, and that I was walking around an unfamiliar town trying to find a shop selling food for supper. The door was always round the next corner, down steps, along a beach, up some steps, under a bridge... Then I woke up, safe at home in bed, and there was no pain. 3. We've been really looking forward to Sherlock -- Mark Gattiss and Stephen Moffat's up-dated re-telling of Sherlock Holmes. I'm really fond of Mark Gattiss, and we know Stephen Moffat from Dr Who, but we felt a bit cautious. I have BBC drama series trust issue...

1. The Mother takes me for my 20-week scan. We admire Baby Badger kicking away like a racing cyclist, and after a lot of pushing and pulling on my bump, get a view of its heart. "About the size of a grape," says the operator. "You can see the valves working away." The image moves around, giving different views -- sometimes it looks as if BB is snuggled up in a duvet. Finally, the operator gives the all-clear: "Your baby has no abnormalities that I can see." 2. "She's become nice and we can take her out," they say. Their previously fractious baby sits demurely (apart from the occasional posset, which could happen to anyone) in a sling on her father's chest and examines the world around her with wide-eyed interest. 3. To come upstairs just before sunset and see that the far hills are hidden by rain clouds.

1. The lady in the next bed -- she has just asked me where I got my skirt, which she says is unusual and beautiful -- asks the nurse if she can have some blusher. "I look so pale, my darling." I hope her family brings her some. 2. An empty office block. A skirt of overgrown grasses and wild flowers. 3. That cup of tea is very welcome on this hot, still afternoon.

I was very pleased yesterday to get a message from James Heald, saying that a combination of 3BT and Pythagorean philosophy inspired him to start blogging. He is planning to spend 18 minutes a day writing, and here he talks about his aims . I wanted particularly to mention this, because I know a number of 3BT bloggers tail off after a while. One reason is the format doesn't work for them. If that's the case, they might find a timed exercise, or a word count fits in better with their nature and lifestyle.  I do think a limit is vital with writing -- it prevents blank page fright. I use this idea every day -- my to-do list includes items like 'Write 75 words on hair removal article' and '100 words on jam' (actual examples from last week). My thinking is 'Only a total loser would fail to write 75 words.' So if your 3BT blog has withered on the vine, don't be disheartened -- try a different tactic. I still think I was very lucky to stumble, first tim...