Monday 7 November. This weather. Warm and windy. Unseasonably warm and there is growth were there should not be growth and flowers where there should not be flowers. However, the wind is perfect for winnowing this year's crop of weld seed. It has been drying in a large enamel bowl in the studio for weeks (always dry seed for longer than you think, but also I have been busy), the seed mixed in with chaff and stems. A first pour through the seed colander gets the bigger bits out, and then I stand on the studio step, pouring the dark, glossy, black seed from bowl to bowl. The gusts of wind carry the chaff off and the heavier seed falls into the bowl.

I cannot begin to tell you how satisfying it is. 

Tuesday 8 November. My obsessions with textiles and furoshiki lives on. Three huge boxes of my books have arrived and I can't wait to start playing around with different fabrics and different styles. There has been a big bolt of Merchant & Mills linen in Milk in my studio for a while. It turns out that the light, fine weave is perfect for wrapping. 

 If you are going for a sustainable Christmas, I cannot recommend this more. 

Wednesday 9 November. The clocks going back is traditionally associated with a short getaway to the wildest of the wilds. Oh ok, the most luxurious wild hotel in the wilds.  Forty eight hours at The Gurnard's Head to celebrate the arrival of the gloom. It is wonderful. The bar is generous. The food is exquisite. The bedroom is perfect and understated and equipped with an incredibly comfortable bed.  The wind truly whistles here and if there is anything better than sitting in a bath (my cottage is too small for a bath so this is a rarity) with a Kir Royale in one hand and a Jilly Cooper in the other, listening to a howling gale outside, then I absolutely do not know what it is.

Thursday 10 November. We start the walk at Mousehole, the prettiest of villages on the south coast of the Penwith Peninsula. Over the moors and the tin mine studded landscape, back to the hotel on the craggy north coast. Despite the very excellent picnic provided by the hotel kitchen, we are windswept and hungry by the time we return. The girls have mud up to their ears, and the mustard paint of The Gurnard's Head glows like a beacon, welcoming us home. 

Three hours by the fire and two mulled ciders and I am fully restored and ready for dinner. 

For all those that asked, we left Hugo at home with my mother. It was unbelievably peaceful and the girls were utterly angelic. I adore Hugo, but I cannot deny that he is highly strung and he does add a sense of jeopardy to any situation where we might encounter another dog.

Friday 11 November. After a gorgeous breakfast and an extra coffee at the wonderful Potager at Constantine (as if we could ever drive past without going in), a joyous reunion with my cottage. A rather surprising development is that there is a perfect Tom and Jerry-esque mouse hole in the bottom of the back door. A mouse, very likely upset and disturbed by the replacement of the thatch on the cottage roof, has taken the opportunity to move into more salubrious accommodation in the form of our pantry. 

Saturday 12 November. No sooner has one holiday finished than another sort starts. This time, the Christmas season. A lovely morning packing hampers to go with the gift subscriptions to Gather. As thoughtful as I am of every beautiful, plastic-free item that goes into the boxes, it isn't really about the things, because haven't we all already got too much stuff? 

Bliss.