This week my leaking roof has been fixed, and the leaking kitchen tap has been fixed. I can now close the bathroom door properly too. (When you live on your own, you stop worrying about things like the bathroom door not being quite private enough, but you worry more about roofs and things.) Money can buy you happiness, whatever anyone says.
Herbie is lying at a weird angle, his body wrapped up in his bedding but his neck halfway across the floor so that he can stare into the stove. (The TV means nothing to him, but the fire is worth watching.) Holly has scraped her bed into a lump and is trying to bury her head inside it. Someone I work with joked about having ordered his box full of straw, and at the weekend he would climb into it and stay there till spring. I think the dogs are almost ready to do the same.