London bothying...

Two extremes. Dubs Hut in the Lakes at the weekend. No fire. No light. Just four walls, stone flags and a roof. Frosted on the inside. Tea lights. Wine. Friends. A makeshift fire on an upturned supermarket basket. Waking to blue skies and crisp snow.

Glowing bothy - by my mate Gary

And some time later. London. The tube. And a jacket that still smells faintly of bothy. A warm island in the middle of too many people with too little space.