It’s the sort of evening that requires an historic stone inn with good walking trails around, a lazily flaming apple log in the fireplace, a spaniel on the heather-and-earthen-tone hearth rug, Lucia di Lammermoor on the iPod, a little peaty Islay single-malt in an etched Georgian tumbler near to hand, a classic detective story in a nice cloth binding open on my lap, and an amiable old raconteur ready to interrupt.
But failing that, warm socks and a BBC rerun will have to do.
image: a fire in a fireplace, Fastily
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