The days between Christmas and the year’s end are ones for hunkering down in the warm. I don’t know what the weather has been like where you are, but here in Rutland we always have a white Christmas.
In some years the wolves are driven down from the North of Rutland by the hard weather and the cottages in the village bar their shutters. It is then that the secret passage that leads from the Hall to the cellar of the Bonkers’ Arms comes into its own.
This afternoon I took a favourite armchair in front of a roaring blaze and opened Clegg’s Politics: Between the Extremes, which Freddie and Fiona kindly gave me for Christmas. When I woke the fire had burned low and it was time for dinner.