At least the sun has shone today. (Better than yesterday's downpours. In the evening we fed friends beef and Guinness stew in the warmth of the kitchen, seemed appropriate given the weather.)
There's been a biting wind from the north all day and tonight's temperature is dropping to 6°C. We've dragged the bougainvillea in its large pot into the house. Its soft new bronze leaves won't cope with the wind chill.
We've lit the stove in the lounge and the house smells of wood smoke.
We huddle on the sofa to watch Dr Who and then Brazil play football and finish yesterday's stew.
In the 1970's I lived in Brazil and I wrote home to my mother in the UK every week. Those letters became the story of my life there. In 2007 I moved to south west France. Not quite sure where "home" is, I have no family left in the UK. If I did, these words would be my letters home, capturing the first impressions of my life here, to share, enjoy and perhaps re-read in years to come.