It’s my favourite weather this morning: an all enveloping impenetrable mist with a dash of light drizzle. It affords that warm, seemingly divorced from the world, kind of feeling.
Pecking order … Mrs McG. returns from Ike Godsey’s with the usual supplies. I get a packet of Mackie’s haggis-flavoured crisps and two bottles of ale; the chickens a forty-quid tub of vitamin-enhanced treats.