There are now five Blackbirds that appear to have made their home at the barn; others visit and are driven off. You can’t appreciate how cold it is out there, on the yard. I’ve been reduced to lacing my coffee with brandy. That said, I love Sundays. The local wireless is playing that great old favourite ‘Out come Mother and me.’ Mrs G. is wearing her festive apron, whilst baking rabbit pies for our lunch; a vat of soup’s bubbling on top of the stove. And I’ve found a bottle of Pomerol in a tool box at the back of the shed?