Strangely for me, I’m feeling the cold at the moment. Which is unusual. In fact, it’s so unusual that I’m not prepared for it. I do own things like gloves and boots but so rarely ever need them because I just don’t feel the cold and let’s face it, we rarely have any really cold weather here. I spend half of the winter in summer clothes laughing at the PYTs (pretty young things) wandering about in fashionable winter clothes more suited to arctic conditions than to mild old England.

David is cold too. He tells me he just can’t get warm, despite the fire raging in the hearth all of the time.

I honestly can’t remember the last time we had weather like this and it seems to be following me about because over last weekend, it was only really the West Country and Wales that were affected and I leave there Monday morning to go to Manchester (and yes, Jim, it was a successful meeting) to find the snow is following me and it’s white everywhere.

The long trip back to the South East was very beautiful – it’s funny how even a town like Rugby can look picturesque in the snow! Oh and yes, this is another 'shove the camera out of a train window and snap' shot…..I’m doing my best in difficult circumstances. Bear with me. Many others would falter in these circumstances.

After an afternoon in the office, I took a trip to see my old boss, Christine and spent another wonderful evening in the bosom of my friends. The home she and her husband have created is the kind of home that I so wish I could make. Her attention to detail in every aspect has made it an exquisitely beautiful place to be. It’s stunning and comfortable all at the same time.

It’s an art. An art that I will never possess as long as I live, unfortunately. I’m so clumsy that ornaments jump off the side before I’ve even gone near them. Glasses and crockery jump out of my hands onto the floor with alarming regularity and then if you add two dogs into the mix whose muddy paws leave their mark on everything, black dog hair gets everywhere and I’m completely unable to maintain a tidy home even for a few moments.

She’s a fabulous cook too (do you see some envy creeping into my tone here because if not, then yes, I’m deeply envious). I ate well for the first time since leaving home – yesterday’s fare of cardboard for lunch (a terrifyingly bad sandwich) and yet another appalling ‘veggie option’ at Man Utd meant for a miserable day gastronomically speaking. Lunch on the run today didn’t help my sense of ‘you are what you eat’ at all so to be treated to a lovely meal tonight was my idea of sheer bliss. Add to that the company and a few glasses of red stuff and I’m like a pig in muck.

Not only all this but then I didn’t even have to trudge back to a hotel – I just walked upstairs and slept like a baby. How I long for my own bed and DM, but if I can’t have those things, then this is as good a substitute as it gets.

Last year, coincidentally, my photo was of a broken wine glass! Two years ago, I was walking down memory lane (again, sentimental old fool that I am!)