St. Stephen's

Ice on the inside of the bathroom window, blue skies and sun from dawn to dusk, washing out on the line and in and dry (albeit cold) by late afternoon.

An impromptu lunch at Yves; foie gras, crevettes flambeed in Armagnac, pommes de terre boulangere and a gigot of chevreuil. We ate off his long, strip-lit table, with Anais, Peta and Francesca, while a sanglier hunt was played out, on the television above our heads.

Back via the beehive wood, Miranda's longest bicycle ride to date.