My son asked another question about his dad's plane, how to hold it so it didn't take too much wood. I could have sent him straight to Grandad, who knows, but I stood beside him looking at the thing first. He seemed pleased just to have it out on the table, and that made me pleased too, until I wanted his dad there so sharply I had to fetch something from the kitchen. Nothing needed fetching. Came back and said we'd ask Grandad together. The boy carried on talking about what he wanted to make. I was glad he could. I didn't want a solemn evening, only another pair of hands at the table, the ones that ought to have been teaching him.

Four dogs, damp wind, Rivelin. The descent was slippery enough that I kept my steps short and felt it in my thighs by the bottom, more than in the knee for once. Back at the van I took my gloves off and my hands were steaming faintly in the cold air. Hadn't noticed how warm I'd got under the coat. The first mouthful of tea was too hot, the second about right, and I stood there with it while the dogs settled into their crates. By the time I got home my cheeks felt tight from the wind. The lad said I looked sunburnt. Told him Sheffield had made a special arrangement. Boots off was the best part of the evening.

One of the boarding dogs knows the sound of its owner's car before it comes round the corner. No response to three others, then straight up at the right one. I've been listening myself and can't pick it out until it's near enough to see. Same with my lad coming up the stairs; I know when he's dragging his feet without looking, though I'd struggle to explain which bit of the sound tells me. Clients sometimes ask if a dog understands a whole sentence when it's probably noticed the shoes going on. Mind, I do that too. Mum says she's only calling briefly and I hear her settling into the chair. I put the kettle on before she's finished saying hello.