WE had some friends around for dinner on the weekend and for the first time in an age the arrival of our visitors matched with the weather being warm enough to contemplate eating in the garden.

As I’d already had a piece of meat marinating for hours and was aiming to cook it in the pizza oven, it was lucky we were able to decamp to the garden otherwise I would have been banished there to sit on my own while the pork roasted rather than enjoying the company.

Fortunately the sky cleared and the sun shone on the almost righteous as we shlepped everything up the garden for our alfresco feast.

With the meal consumed and the gin and tonic flowing, the temperature began to slowly drop and normal people began to reach for sweaters and hoodies. Being of a certain age and coming with my own internal central heating I now have to take my cues as to whether the temperature is falling off by the actions of those around me and judging my the shivering going on, it was getting slightly chilly by about 9pm.

“We’ve got a choice now,” I announced. “We can either decamp to the house, light the fire pit or attempt to set up the garden heater my sister bought for the housemate at Christmas.

“We can’t use the fire pit this close to the pond,” answered the housemate in panic. “We don’t want to set the koi on fire!”

Hesitating to point out that the general watery-ness of fish normally make it quite difficult for them to catch alight and abandoning all thoughts of roasting the marshmallows we had in the house, I added a little further information about the heater.

“We opened it a while ago and couldn’t work out how to hang it up or use it,” I ventured, knowing that my friend could rarely ignore a thinly disguised challenge.

“I was waiting for my sister to come over and work it out for us,” I added.

“Let’s have a look,” said my friend.

As darkness fell we poured over the instructions while the housemate abandoned all hope and wrapped herself in a blanket.

“We could just go and sit in the house,” she suggested through chattering teeth.

“We’ve started doing this now,” answered our friend, unwilling to be bested by an electric heater.

“Can you just hold this up there near the roof of the pergola,” she ordered her recently married husband.

“I can try but it’s a bit heavy and I’ve been holding it for quite a while now,” he replied as his knees began to shake.

Giving up and joining the housemate as an audience member rather than an active participant I watched as they puzzled their way through the complicated instructions until the heater was finally in place, switched on and bathing the housemate and by now fully recovered  heater holder in glorious warmth.

“I think the hook it’s hanging on needs to be a more toward the middle of the pergola,” said my friend, who like me was not entirely feeling the benefit.

“I think it’s in a perfect position,” said the housemate, shedding her blanket.

“So do I,” added my friend’s husband watching the ice in his gin and tonic melt as even I began to feel the chill of life on the edge