It's that indefinable moment, that extra nip in the air, that sudden feeling of cool damp in the house and the Swedish Tank is fired up and back into action this week for the winter.Instantly the house seems to have its heart back and everyone's fighting for the armchair in the kitchen.
I never wanted an Aga, too much Joanna Trollope and they spelt out an image I didn't think was me,so I wasn't thrilled to inherit one with this house.Cremation became my new trade and heaven knows how much I spent on baking ingredients in search of the perfect cake.Mary Berry didn't seem to have this trouble.
The funniest thing is that sudden whiff of burning.If you can smell this in association with an Aga there's every chance it's Thursday morning and you can smell something you put in there at Wednesday lunchtime.It's almost impossible to smell what is cooking within until it has reached this advanced state of well-done-ness and even then we only usually smell it in the garden.
There's often a heap of blackened cremains outside the back door which even the dogs ignore.
Now of course I'm an Aga-addict, it can do much more than cook, it can iron for starters and of course there's a sure-fire way to know it's up and running.
Here he is again Rocky Five Bellies Fat Boy Slim readying himself for his 12th winter in front of the world's best hot water bottle.