Our house is always cold. I’ve mentioned it before (probably ad nauseum). So, when I walked into the sitting room to ask DM a question before dinner, I was amazed to see not just the 17⁰C trying to free itself from the rest of the pack but the 18⁰C too. Hey – I’m in danger of being able to shed a jumper! So, that’s it, that’s why the not all that good shot of a Galileo’s thermometer. I could have taken it out into our makeshift studio where we do at least have a studio light but had I done so, the balls may have scurried back up to the top of the tube to huddle next to their pals for safety.

We rarely see one ball down, let alone two. Our entire winter existence seems to involve trying in vain to achieve getting a ball down and here we go making it happen with barely any effort at all. Is there a slim chance that spring might be on the way? Might we see a leaf appearing on a tree soon? Could there be a bluebell coming? OOOOOhhhhhhhhh yes, yes, yes.

Earlier today we went to the farm supplies shop to get chicken food. From the moment we set foot outside the door and were hit in the face by horizontal rain. From the moment we realised that the visibility on the road was about 20 feet in front of the car. From the moment we realised that the rain was draining down off the moor, turning our road into a river, we realised that there is no sign of spring here whatsoever.

Maybe it’s on its way after all. Perhaps by the time it gets going, I’ll be feeling up to sticking my head outside again!