C'mon baby light my fire

After a VERY long day dejunking the garden and garage and hauling everything through the house to a skip, with the temperature this morning -10, we have lit a very well deserved log fire and can now relax over a glass of wine. Ache all over and feel knackered of course. This is a long day when you reach a certain age.

Throwing stuff away (and we were quite ruthless) is not an unemotive exercise. Many memories bought back to life for a while. But I'm increasingly less and less of a nostalgist. The more past I have the less I dwell on it; the less future I can expect the more I value it; but today is the thing. Having sufficient ego to get out of bed each new day and and work at it, sufficient humility to try and see it in perspective, and sufficient love to go to bed having done the right thing, that's what matters.

I adore an open fire. I think it's the sound of logs cracking, the sight of the flames and the smell of the wood that is as important as the heat it generates. But everyone has their own way of keeping warm. If you look camera left, you can see that Tigger the cat is curled up on the Virgin Media box. I always knew cable telly would come in useful one day ...