Listening to: Please Read The Letter (Robert Plant and Alison Krauss)
What's for tea?: Sal's swede soup and apple crumble
Reading: An Utterly Impartial History of Britain (John O'Farrell)
We've been hit by a wave of girl power here on Westray and we're all feeling very much the better for it.
Mrs TPF has been in impressive form since her return from the West Midlands at the beginning of December. While I was away attending to family responsibilities and drinking vast amounts of beer with Reg Pither, she turned our tumbledown house into something resembling a home - a very Christmassy home.
The roll of podge around my middle stands testament to the quality of the Christmas cake, mince pies, soups, chocolate pistachio fudge, chocolate truffles and other goodies she had 'put together in a spare moment'.
When it came to compiling the (very long) list of jobs we need to do to make the house decent (we pay no council tax as the house is officially 'uninhabitable') I had a few ideas, but Sal had a truckload of better ones. She's got that natural feel for what makes a house a good place to live.
Now she's sorted out another problem for us - where the money comes from. We've always known that one of us at least would have to get a 'proper' job, if only on a part-time basis. We're not daft enough to expect to make money from farming.
Sal's a get-up-and-go kind of girl and she got up and went. . . for an interview with Orkney Council last Friday and was offered a social work job that very afternoon.
The snag is that she will have to spend four nights a week in Kirkwall, but it's only until the end of August and who knows what opportunities will present themselves then?
We skived off today and went to Kirkwall for a celebration lunch (and to buy animal feed, look at gates and fence posts - exciting stuff!). "What do you fancy," I said, with visions of chilled white wine and seafood. "Something with chips and a couple of pints," came the reply. You can take the girl out of Wolverhampton. . .
To round off a good day for the ladies, I went to shut the hens in and - you've guessed it - there was an egg! The first for four weeks.