This sunflower seed loaf that Eric makes is the entire family’s favourite bread. When there is a fresh batch, straight from the oven, we all attack it like starving wolves as soon as it’s cool enough to eat.

A new kitchen deserves a new table. The old table is not in as bad a shape as the old oven (which is literally falling apart) but it’s wobbly and worn, and using it or looking at it definitely does not spark any joy in me.

Varnished veneer doesn’t age well. The next table will be solid oiled wood that we can simply sand down and re-apply oil to when all the kneading and baking takes its toll. And it will have thick, solid legs and a thick, solid top that the kids can climb on without having to worry about its stability.

The one thing that is just perfect about the current table is its size. We would feel cramped sitting around it if the table was smaller – and the kitchen would feel cramped if the table was bigger. We didn’t even buy this table for this kitchen but one in London, and it was pure luck that it fit so well here.

So naturally I went looking for a new one of roughly similar size, give a take a few centimetres – and found nothing. Our table is 90 cm wide, and every table I found online was either 75 or 80 – most small 4-seat tables were 80 by 120 cm. I guess people want nice, round measurements. But giving up 10 per cent of the width would make a noticeable difference… How come we found a 90 cm table and why aren’t there any more out there?

Once I measured the table’s length to 127 cm, I understood why. Our table was designed by someone who thought in inches. It measures a tidy 35 x 50 inches in its half-expanded state, and those are of course very nice and round numbers.

If we want a table of this perfect size, and there are none to be bought, I guess someone will have to build one. How hard can it be?

I have two small potted plants next to my desk at work. One is a jade plant that would probably survive an entire summer break without me. The other is some kind of glossy-leaved fern that definitely wouldn’t. I normally water both on Mondays; this week I was at home both Monday and Tuesday and the poor fern was looking pretty sad this morning. But a few hours after watering it was back to its normal perky shape.

I was at home because Ingrid had the flu (or something like it) – 39°C fever, barely enough energy to walk from one room to another, sleeping almost all day. Two days later she is well again. The rest of us escaped unscathed. I can’t remember when I last had the flu – must have been many years ago at least.

I still have my colouring book and pencils. They books are going to last me effectively forever – colouring even a small part of these pictures takes a lot of time. I can imagine the pencils wearing down to nubs, though.

When I forget which of all the different reds I was mainly using for my sea serpents, I just look at which of them is most worn.

A neighbourhood cat has discovered our bird feeder and decided that it would make a great cat feeder. It’s picked a somewhat sheltered spot and sits there, waiting for the birds to come. Then it jumps up and tries to bat them down. We saw it walk away with a dead bird the other day, and if it has taken one then it has probably taken several. Bummer.

I can’t think of a way to raise the feeder higher without making it dangerously unstable – and in fact it was already dangerously unstable in its original configuration and Eric added a wooden support structure to ensure it doesn’t fall over. Maybe we can find some way to make that spot uncomfortable for the cat. I wonder if it would find a carpet of fir branches uncomfortable.

I just realized it’s been a long time since Adrian needed the step stool in the bathroom to reach the sink and the toothbrushes etc. It’s just there because it always has been. The bathroom is going to feel empty without it.

I wear my rings all the time, day and night. I only take them off for two things: (a) working out in the gym, to spare both the rings and my fingers, and (b) rolling veggie “meatballs”, like I did today, because it’s such gooey work.

When they rings are off, my ring finger feels naked. My left thumb goes looking for them and there’s a bit of a shock when they are not there. I sometimes fiddle with them without thinking about it, squeezing them between my thumb and the bottom of my little finger. It feels quite odd when those fingers meet emptiness.

Planning and measuring for the new kitchen. Yes, there will be room to open the dishwasher without hitting the window sill even if we place the dishwasher right next to the wall.

Adrian, like me, wants his clothes to be soft and comfortable. Looks also matter but comfort comes first.

Clothes are best when they have been washed many, many times, so they are really soft and floppy. He would rather wear old comfy socks, where the sole is nearly transparent in places, than new ones. He has two favourite long sleeve t-shirts which are not just one but two sizes too small for him, many years old, the sleeves ending a good bit above his wrists. He would wear those two all the time if he could. Only when both are definitely too dirty does he pick some other shirt.

The sun won’t rise until after I am at work. It’ll be another month until sunrise happens before I leave for work. But even now at least there is some light at the edge of the sky.