Potatoes

I suppose that I might grumble that the garden doesn't get the sun in the evening, but it's a joy to sit outside and watch it set down on the other side of the valley.

And anyway, we can always take out blankets and light the chiminea, and even - if the Minx is to hand - cook some potatoes (see extra). They were wonderful: hot and fluffy. With a little butter, salt, and pepper, they were perfect.

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Reading: 'Touching The Void' by Joe Simpson.