Jonathan: Denise and Mum are just back from Daliburgh – with flowers and a bottle of wine. Together they arrange the flowers in vases around the house, and as Denise lights the fire for the evening, Mum settles herself down with the TV. Denise pours a glass and sets about preparing the evening meal.  It’s been a dry day – the first without heavy showers for several weeks, but the wind – though gradually lessening from the severe gale of last night and early this morning – has remained blustry and finger-numblingly cold. A blanket of grey cloud – broken only in ragged patches of palest blue-grey – rolls away to the south east, and as the light fades slowly the waving blades of New Zealand flax retreat into the twighlight, the herbacious borders into the deep shadows of the high garden wall.