Hmmm… Monday already. somewhere back there there was a weekend. Let’s think… Saturday morning, I worked, which was OK because it was interesting stuff and I had a good reason to stop at lunchtime: Phil was coming over.

We’ve not seen each other for… two years, I’d guess. At least. But we’ve always left long gaps between meeting and been able to pick it up again like we’d seen each other the week before. So of course he’d not been to the house before, despite the fact we’ve been here over a year already.

We ate lots of cake and drank lots of tea and went out for a walk in the cold down to the mill to watch the water racing under the bridge and into the mill pond, which looked on the verge of bursting its banks. It really felt wintery. The sky was blue and bright, but the air had a bite that has done nothing bit get more fierce every day since. This morning the weather station was showing -0.4C as we left the house, but it was -2C before we woke up.

Saturday night we motored over to Graham and Roger for dinner with Trevor and Jon. Roger had promised we’d be eating cuckoos, but it turned out he meant couscous. Somewhat relieved, we ate more cuckoos than we knew where to put then slumped in the lounge until all the taxi firms started to shut up shop and forced us to spend an hour longer than intended fighting off sleep in comfy chairs.

Sunday, we made best use of the blue skies and drove to Suffolk. We never make good use of Suffolk. It’s so close and so pretty (and so very very flat) yet we get there perhaps twice a year, and always end up in Snape.

That’s not a bad thing. It’s homely and fresh and riddled with crafty shops.

We came home with new oven gloves.

In terracotta orange.

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