Just another ordinary winter evening.
With no nightclubs, pubs, theatres, or michelin starred restaurants to tempt us out at night, we hunker down and read trashy novels, or fill-in crosswords.
Bok just sleeps, Freddie watches the world go by, and Lady Magnon kicks off her slippers. The only sound is that of the washing-up machine whirring away in the kitchen.
We discuss the day's news, commiserate with those who are digging themselves out from six foot snow drifts, and we sip our glasses of warmed red wine.
There is little on TV that appeals, so I head off early to bed and listen to some ancient comedy show on Radio 4 extra.
Yup, it's a hard busy old life, but winter is like that; you take it as you find it.