It’s a soft winter evening, the sun is going down. I can feel, this prickly January cold wind. I open the door of the typical Briton house. Inside, fire in a hearth creates a warm atmosphere. I can hear the fire crackle skimmed the boiled chestnuts. I can smell orange peel and cinnamon which are slowly cooked in the mulled wine with my grandfather behind the stove. He smiles when he see me and invites me to sit on the cozy sofa with a cup of mulled wine. The dog is lying near