The first night back inside four solid walls after a long camping trip always feels odd. This time last night, we were pitched up near the Loire listening to a frog chorus as owls hooted in the darkness. Just us, some canvas (ok, polyester) and nature. We'd broken our journey home to the UK with an overnight stop having spent over a week in the Sarlat area helping a friend who has just bought a ruin house there. We were a little gang, of which I was the most useful as I knew how to work the kettle while the others only had building skills. Between us we put in 4 new windows, cut back a wilderness in the garden, built a kitchen, partitioned a couple of rooms and brewed about 28 rounds of tea. B. Dogg was put in charge of recycling.