There’s a long crack in one of the panes, running diagonally across the lower-right corner. Condensation has formed in the one-inch gap between the two. The strange loop hooks of galvanised steel tug upwards in response to inserted forefinger, and are swivelled to one side; then the textured metal knob on the sliding restraint mechanism can be loosened, and the window opened by nine inches, max. I guess that’s a safety feature for above ground floor.

The wind hazes its way, rippling across ripe barley in the gently sloping field above. Dark beech trees delineate the curve of the hill, rising up the field boundary. It’s a hissing, itinerant wind, gently playing the barley. From further up, the baaing of sheep on the heather-purpled top where the TV mast hides just out of useful sight.

Downstairs at breakfast, raspberry juice on yoghurt and muesli – the glut of berries mass-juiced and perhaps slightly fermented – intense and real.