That is, I hope I’ll still have happy campers by the morning, it’s not due to rain until about 7 o’clock.

Last night, my friend Gill phoned, wondering if Bex might be able to bring Ben round, so that her granddaughter Holly could see him.  Gill is Ben’s owner number 1.  I, of course, am Ben’s owner number 2 and Bex is Ben’s owner number 3.  Bex, being endlessly kind and goodnatured, popped round this morning and so the doggy was in the unusual situation of having three loving one-time owners all in the room at the same time.  He made a big fuss of everyone and then lay down; having walked two miles he was quite relaxed about things.

Bex’s son Spike is keen on camping, even at this time of the year, and she asked if I’d mind him and his dad coming and setting up camp on the Ups and Downs.  That’s fine of course, they’re most welcome, and she suggested that the dog might like to come and sleep with me, on the grounds that he’d probably bark at the least sound all night if he were camping too.

I’m not sure what sort of bivouac they have, but they are tentless, which sounds interesting in January.  I think it’s a jolly good thing though, to encourage the adventurous spirit.  I’ve left tea, coffee and drinking chocolate out in case they are just too cold in the night and would like to come in the house, but I think they’re made of stern stuff.  I’m right out of bacon, but I have eggs, in case they can’t get their camp fire lit in the morning.

Not that my hens are laying at all, I haven’t had a single egg since before Christmas.  They’re quite happy, eating well and not moulting, just conserving their energy.  Or something.  I’ll be overwhelmed with eggs again in the spring and will be giving them away, but now I have to buy eggs.  Tonight, I used up the last of the Christmas beef – or rather, I made a dish with it.  I only ate half, so it lives to fight another day.  Just the one, though.  And the Stilton is nearing its end, soon I’ll only have pudding and cake to go.

I was sorely tempted to have a glass of wine tonight, not for the alcohol but because I had nothing else in the house fit to drink.  I know I’ve banged on about this before, I’ve still not solved the problem.  I drank water with a generous squeeze of lemon juice before dinner, nothing with and a cup of tea after.  Awfully dull.  I don’t feel the loss of alcohol, but I do of flavour.  By 6 o’clock tomorrow, it’ll have been about 66 hours.  That’ll have given my liver plenty of time to process umpteen units of alcohol, innit?