Some friends of ours have left town to spend most of the summer at their cottage. We’re picking up their mail – and plant-sitting their potted cucumber.

We cycled to the recycling centre in Bromma. All the way there and back, the sky loomed over us and the air felt like it should start raining any moment, but not a single drop actually fell.

I feel a bit bad about depriving the family of home-grown strawberries (even though they probably don’t really expect me to provide any) so I’m solving the problem by throwing money at it and saying yes to buying strawberries whenever Adrian asks for them. It’s a good thing he does ask, because I would be stingier if I was buying just for myself.

Adrian and I often eat cereal with yoghurt and a generous heaping of fresh strawberries for breakfast. (Meanwhile Ingrid sleeps until late morning and doesn’t really do breakfast at all, and Eric has already left for work after a much earlier and simpler meal.)

We won’t be getting many strawberries this year, if any, because I really haven’t been taking care of the garden at all. The tall grass doesn’t matter but I really should have replaced the nets. I didn’t, though, so now the deer have eaten most of the strawberry plants. Well, there’s always next year.

Watching the rain while transferring Adrian’s scout badges from his old, outgrown shirt to a new one. This is the last time I’m doing this; next time he can do his own sewing.

Raindrops on flowers may be corny but I still love them.

Cycled to Myrorna in Sundbyberg with Adrian, mostly to get out of the house and get some exercise. Adrian cycling naturally at a sustainable speed is a good match for me with a trailer cycling with not much of an effort.

Adrian has an entire collection of fiddle toys in front of his bed, that he uses while I read for him at bedtime. (Currently reading: Howard Pyle’s Robin Hood.) These have accumulated over the past few years. The magic snakes appear to be the best, because they satisfy both his fingers and his brain. They were a bit loud and “clicky” to begin with, but with some use they’ve softened. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to the slight noise.

The boys taking care of the dishes after dinner.