It’s said that wood warms you twice through – once when you cut and stack it, once when you burn it. Well, the logs come ready chopped. But the lorry dumps its load of wood outside the entrance on the pavement. No way of the truck getting round the back to the wood-store. Thermals on, and wheelbarrow at the ready, we begin the process of shifting it all. The first barrow full is loaded. Transported through the alleyway and round the back. There, ready to stack log on log, my dad stands in the wood shed. Tip the wheelbarrow up. Deposit the load. Start the process again. Accompanied by my mum and her ‘vehicle reversing’ sound, and me, pretending to be a dumper truck, the time passes swiftly. An occasional pause to greet passersby. 17 barrowloads. Several armfuls. A bag full of sweepings for kindling. Firewood supply topped up, ready for the cold snap. We finish just as the first flakes of snow appear, whirling down from the sky. Inside to hot chocolate and comfortable chairs. And tonight, a blazing fire in the hearth.