It must be the coldest day of the year here so far - about -2 in the day; a day of solid greyness, everything utterly silent as if snow might start falling, but nothing is forecast.
I did walk the dog but, unsually, didn't enjoy it, just very keen to get back inside and get a fire going. I did also barrow some wood in, and attempted to clear one of the overgrown garden beds but it was short-lived... back to making put-off phone calls and sorting in-tray filings.
While trying to find a photo of my passport, I came across a few garden pictures taken last July. The one below sticks in my mind. It was about 34 degrees in the evening and I was trying to capture the essence of the mid summer to add photos to our website. The river beckoned, shirt stuck to my back with sweat, mozzies homing in for a dusk feeding session . . . all impossible to imagine now as I sit in our 'office' on the landing which I have sealed off with an old sheet to trap the heat from the oil heater under the desk. It's a lot better than the yawning void onto the staircase which we naively thought would heat up if we opened the kitchen door - where the wood stove is.
The kitchen door stays firmly shut, that room the only really warm sanctuary in the house; but it's okay, we just scurry around the rest of the house dressed in many jumpers, (as the previous resident did, and the ones before her,) occasionally stopping to glance out of a window and remember when it was too hot to venture outside...
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