Text 1: Ready before the frost, by Marcus Llewelyn

An original contemporary magazine article.

The first cold morning of autumn is not the time to discover that the heating does not work. At our cottage on the edge of the moor, winter preparation begins while there are still leaves on the trees.

In late September, I climbed into the loft after a night of heavy rain and found a dark patch beneath two cracked roof tiles. A roofer replaced them the following week and cleared a gutter that was packed with leaves. An engineer then serviced the boiler and tested every radiator. The one in the spare room remained cold until he released the trapped air.

My jobs were less skilled but more numerous. I fixed draught-excluding strips around the back door, covered the outside tap and checked the batteries in our torches. My sister helped me stack two deliveries of logs in the shed, leaving gaps between the rows so that air could circulate. We also moved the garden bench and tools indoors before the autumn storms arrived.

Finally, I filled one kitchen cupboard with food that would keep if snow made the steep lane difficult to use. By the end of October, the roof was sound, the rooms were warm and almost everything that could blow away was safely under cover.

Text 2: Before the north wind comes, by Anne Pritchard

An original diary entry written in a nineteenth-century voice; a period simulation, not an archival document.

Text 2 is a diary entry written in the 1870s by a woman living in a remote farmhouse.

14 October

We have spent much of this week making the house ready for winter. Thomas and Will repaired the loose slates above the dairy and fastened the shutters which rattled so dreadfully last year. I took the heavy curtains from the cedar chest, beat out the dust in the yard and hung them in the bedrooms.

The coal cart arrived on Tuesday. Every basket had to be carried from the lane to the store beside the kitchen, for the ground was too soft for the horse and cart. The children gathered fallen branches for kindling, and Thomas split the thicker pieces beneath the barn roof. By evening, all four of us had black hands and aching backs.

Today I wrapped the yard pump with straw and sacking against the frost. We have lined the pantry shelves with clean paper and stored jars of preserved fruit, sacks of flour and the soundest apples from the orchard. Will climbed into the roof space once more to make certain that no rain was entering.

There is now fuel enough for many weeks, and the wind no longer finds its way so easily through the windows. I shall be glad when the work is finished, but gladder still when the first snow comes and we need not fear it.