How it goes

1. Mix the flour, salt and most of the water until nothing dry is left in the bowl.
2. Knead on the worktop for eight minutes, adding the last water only if the dough tears.
3. Cut twenty pieces, roll each into a ball and cover them with a clean cloth.
4. Roll one round at a time while the pan heats, and cook each until it puffs.

Twenty is not a magic number. It is what fits on the worktop in four rows of five, and what the household eats by Monday.

What changes from week to week is the water. Humid mornings need less of it; the dough says so before the scale does.

How it goes

1. Fill the kettle only as far as one cup needs.
2. Stand at the cupboard while it heats instead of starting something else.
3. Pour, and carry the cup to the window before the first sip.

The rule is small on purpose. Nothing starts until the kettle clicks off, and so the day starts a little more slowly than it would otherwise.

How it goes

1. Toast two slices from the end of the week’s loaf.
2. Lay the cloth even when eating alone.
3. Sit down for all twelve minutes; standing breakfasts do not count.

Coffee is black because milk means a trip to the fridge, and the fridge means looking at what needs using up. That can wait until midday.

How it goes

1. Write the date and one line about the light.
2. List three things the day must hold, and no more.
3. Close the book before the list turns into a plan.

Three things is the limit. A fourth usually means one of the first three was not honest.

How it goes

1. Check the forecast for four clear hours before starting the wash.
2. Carry the quilt up folded so the hem stays off the stairs.
3. Peg it at the corners and the middle, stitched side facing out.
4. Turn it once at two o’clock, and bring it in before the shadow reaches the wall.

The shadow on the tiles is the clock. When it reaches the parapet wall, the quilt is dry.

How it goes

1. Bring the eggs to room temperature before anything else.
2. Measure the flour into the black cup and level it with a knife.
3. Read the card once, all the way through, before starting.

Nothing on it is precise. “A good oven” and “until it looks right” are instructions that only work after the tenth time.

How it goes

1. Turn the loaf out onto the marble as soon as it leaves the oven.
2. Set a timer for an hour and leave the kitchen.
3. Cut it at supper, from the middle outwards.

Leaving the kitchen is the trick. Supper is cooked around the bread, not beside it.

How it goes

1. Switch off the overhead light first.
2. Light the candles from left to right.
3. Read the morning’s three lines, tick what happened, and fold the page.

Ticking the list is not a score. Most evenings one of the three is left, and it moves quietly to tomorrow.