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BURIED TREASURE
Island temperatures are in free fall, last night it was 7 degrees. Even the penguins were shivering, and winter is the season when I have to keep an eye on them - last year hunger drove them to sniff out my stash of home brew. I have buried the stuff this year, so all I need worry about is hotboy finding it, he likes to dig.

Of course once the snow comes, there's a risk that I myself may have trouble finding where I buried it, but I took the precaution of marking each individual bottle on a treasure map, disguised as a Buddhist mandala here. If hotboy tries to read it, he'll fall into a blissful meditative stupor before he can even pick up the shovel.

THE YEAST I COULD DO
I have taken the electric blanket off the bed and wrapped it round the current brew. Keep the yeast comfortable and it will repay the kindness.