Inside it is toasty and warm; the first jar of blackberry whisky has been opened, just for a taste; Edward Thomas's poetry conjures up all too well what it's like outside.
A wilder night
Coming makes way 
For brief twilight. 
Jamie's six-hour pork and crackling will be ready in an hour or so and smells delectable.

But I have been invited to a party ...
Bath, party frock, lipstick, out into the night air, two buses or a cab, local mums in intense middle-class conversation about the merits of perfectly okay local schools.

I think it's time to put on the roast potatoes.