There's no place like home

The snow was belting in at a 45-degree angle, but nothing puts Alfie off his breakfast, so I duly obliged with a mixture of pig feed, barley, potatoes and turnips, adding an extra scoop to help keep him warm.

I've never seen snow stick on a pig before.

The Kims (the older Kim still hasn't gone for sausage and I'm kind of hoping nobody notices) harumphed and grumpfed at me and ploughed their way through the rapidly deepening snow to get their share.

Those three are the only pigs in the herd still outside and as long as their huts remain dry and warm that's where they'll stay.

I've been away in England for a while and, after disrupted flights and long hours spent in airports, it was great to be home, whatever the weather.

The weather perked up by lunchtime, allowing a short walk. . .

. . . to the Skelwick shop. . .

for cat food, pop and a natter with Wilma and Norman. Like I said, it's good to be home.