It's 8pm. We are all feeling full after a dinner of roast chicken, chipolata sausages, mashed potatoes, carrots, baby broad beans and gravy. For some unknown, but universally agreed reason, a bottle of white wine which was laying chilled on its side in the bottle holder section of the fridge, waiting to be drunk, was opened. I think we had all had 'one of those days'. It is now empty and ready to be put into the recycling box outside the front door.
I am browsing through blogs on the laptop in the dining room and through the double doors leading to the lounge, I can hear a recorded Jules Holland TV programme being played. My husband is sitting in the brown leather armchair watching it, although I suspect that if I got up and went into the room, I would find him 'listening with his eyes closed' (asleep!)
The dog has obviously been up to no good in amongst the curtains at the patio doors that lead to the conservatory. I just looked across the room to see what she was doing and she is fast asleep with the voile fabric draped around her. All that is visible is her shaggy haired face. From time to time I can see a slight move of the curtain as she twitches her paw - obviously dreaming. She, too, enjoyed an extra supper of mashed potato and chicken, despite having already tucked into her own food at 6pm.
My daughter is upstairs, removing and replacing nail varnish and washing her hair as she is meeting up with friends after work tomorrow. I can hear the swishing noise of the shower as the water hits the tiled walls of the bathroom.
It is pitch black outside. The fog that we woke to this morning never really cleared and it has been a miserable, damp day. The street lights are casting an eery yellow glow in the misty cold night air. Winter is really upon us. This is my moment in November.