A morning of cooking, while outside, it is suspiciously sunny. Red cabbage is stewing, a launch of venison is in the slow cooker, vegetables await roasting, mashing, and steaming.
Mike comes round in the afternoon with some sheep nuts. Then Liz and Ian. It starts to snow, so we drink tea. We triage through a light blizzard, up the hill, and into the forest. The shelter is welcome, but all too soon we are back on the path, with the wind whipping snow into our eyes.
Then the food comes together. Ivan arrives on foot and alone, as I slam the garlic mushrooms into the oven. Venison and cheese follow, until out comes Claire‘s triumph - a chocolate and blood orange cake. There’s a lot left.
In the early hours, Ivan and I are sitting among a sea of whisky bottles. He walks home, but I just go downstairs.