Some of my best memories are related to cosiness. Cat like curled up snug on a sofa. No point going out because the rain is hurling and the wind is howling. No guilt.

Our front room is a very cosy environment and as yesterday brought cold, wind and rain, we were able to use it to the full. Big, old, comfy sofa, wood floors with rugs, old dark furniture, a  fake wood fire that runs on gas and pumps out heat.

Then there is  the modern stuff. A terabyte hard drive full of movies and Father Ted, linked to an old Mac Mini, linked to projector. Sound provided by some Bose computer speakers that do a truly amazing job.

The front room and the room behind are connected by doors, but at some stage a big sheet of whitened plywood was fixed into the door-well creating the perfect screen with its own proscenium arch.

All I want is a room somewhere, Far away from the cold night air, With one enormous chair. Oh, wouldn't it be loverly? Lots of chocolate for me to eat. Lots of coal makin' lots of 'eat. Warm face, warm 'ands, warm feet. Oh, wouldn't it be loverly? Oh, so loverly sittin' absobloominlutely still. I would never budge 'till spring crept over the windowsill.

So settle in, open a beer, put your feet up. No feeling that because it is a beautiful day outside that you should really be doing something.  Instead, let’s away to the little island of Toddy where a cargo boat with 42,000 cases of whisky has chust gone aground.

Smell the Stag's Breath

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2 Responses to Cosy

  1. Mike Taylor says:

    Whisky Galore (Compton McKenzie)

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