Cosy!

Not my kitchen, alas, but a place we visited today, far up the valley. The house is centuries old, the residence of country gentry once, then just another farm making its living from the land: sheep on the hills and a few hardy crops. The present owners run a small brewery producing four kinds of beer. They were bottling today.

The house hunkers down against the slope of the hillside, rooted solid against the wind and weather, with walls feet thick, tiny windows, and a view over the valley where sunshine and cloud chased each other across the bowl of land and curtains of showers opened and closed in rapid succession. This kitchen seemed the perfect place to sit out the winter.

[For those still puzzled by yesterday's conundrum, the solution can be found by simply breaking up the (English) words FORASS ESTO RUBON with different spacing.... I know, it had me fooled too!]