I'm sure Lady Magnon won't mind me saying this, but (being a part-time Hermit) I really do enjoy my occasional solitude.
The house is quiet. Monty is busy working through an 'everlasting chew', and Bok's head is resting on my lap. All is silent other than the sound of some intermittent rain.
The stove is lit, and a Chicken tagine is gently simmering on top; the warm earthy aroma of cinnamon and cumin is already testing my patience.
I ignore the TV (what there is of it), the radio, and even my favourite music, as I sit stroking Bok's snoozing head and revel in the peacefulness.
There is something blissfully happy about sitting in a warm ancient cottage with a couple of dogs. At peace with the world, and at peace with myself.
A contemplative evening, and 'Blissfully happy' enough to want to write about it.
Time for my tagine!