It's getting colder. You can tell by the dulcet tones of our jigsaw.

"I was getting worried," said Neighbour P this morning, "I thought you had moved out!"

"Huh?" I said. I wasn't having a perceptive day and sensed I was being wound up like a toy mouse.

P pointed at the cleared corner of our driveway that, for the last 6 months, had been blocked by the various dismantled sheds, fences, pallets and bits of wood furniture that we'd scavenged from around our town. I'd processed a batch two weekends ago and stacked it in our little shed but we'd burned all of that by now so I thought, alright, let's get the big boards cut down. Not an easy job to saw plywood with a handsaw so I tried the small electric B&D jigsaw but that made so much noise and was still only marginally faster than I was with my handsaw that I thought, I can't do this to my neighbours. This is going to take me hours.

So I badgered OH into clearing a space in the applehouse down the bottom of the garden where the noise carries less and I can rely on the insulation to keep the sound in and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to make a dent in the plywood pile. I expected a jigsaw to zip through this stuff like butter but it was a surprising slog and my carpal-tunnel-challenged wrist was protesting after an hour or so. Still, got a bit done. I also, proudly, dismantled the sofa that M, husband of J, had promised us after our party. I still don't know what he does for a living but thanks to his irregular donations ("Just drop it off in the drive, yeah?"), we've now got 3 great-looking planters that would cost over £200 on the open market, I have a kickass boho driftwood-chic shoe shelf that is taller than me, OH has several funky-looking nestboxes dotted around the garden and we have loads of firewood. Right now, I am lounging on the sofa unable to watch my favourite German Sunday crime drama because OH, in tidying up the cabling on the extension wall yesterday, has somehow managed to mess up the satellite so now there's no reception and I am bound to watch Antiques Roadshow, Countryfile or a pitiless news reporter badgering clearly traumatised Glaswegians about the emotional impact of their experience. But that's alright because I am doing this in front of a stove that is currently burning a pug-ugly oak sofa frame that I personally dismantled yesterday. It feels good. Bring it, winter.