Hunting is very much a part of our life in the French countryside. Whilst accepting of this tradition, it becomes a different story when they are hunting the wild boar that lives at the bottom of the garden….

Last weekend winter was never ending. The house felt draughtier than ever before. The north wind sent cold gusts of air down the chimney causing the smoke to swirl and curl in the fireplace.

There is a point, around the first week of January, that both the garden and my state of mind reach a plateau of drab mid-tones of browns and greys.