Earlier this month I posted a picture of Puppy asleep in front of our Aga - its just about her favourite place in Free Market Towers. Forget the numerous snoozies that a scattered all over the house, kipping in front of the Aga, even if it is on a hard floor, is about as good as it gets if you are a slobrador (as this picture which I have just taken as I type this, is testament to).

During the shootin’ season the Aga really comes into its own. While it is still dark in the morning, you will find your humble correspondent heating soup for his flask on it. While we are out, a stew will be slowly bubbling away & when we get home cold & wet, you can’t even see it, let alone get to it. On the rail above it will be pungent dripping shooting coats & leggings. On top of it will be cartridge bags, belts & spread out on newspaper in front of it will be the full panoply of shotgun parts, gently drying overnight before the enviable cleaning marathon starts the next day.

Now, in the finest traditions of the sort of pseudo science that seems to so appeal to those that have recently arrived in the countryside, the venerable Aga has become the latest object of eco-angst…

So, who is going to speak first? Who will say the unsayable? We can see it in each other’s eyes. Okay, I’ll do it: we’re ditching the Aga. The real wonder is that it took us so long to make the decision. My wife, Janie, and I are not hair-shirt green, but we like to do our bit. Five years ago, we installed solar panels. We’ve hunted down the eco light bulbs that don’t give that dreadful jaundiced glow. We collect rainwater. We carefully separate our plastics and metals and make endless trips to the rag, paper and bottle banks. Yet all the time, this cast-iron Falstaff has been sitting in the corner of the kitchen, guzzling upwards of five litres of oil a day. Somehow, we’ve been in denial. And it’s a shock to step into the light.

Sadly none of this should come as a surprise: Mrs FM had to pull off the road on Friday because as she admitted to me later, even with Larry Landrover’s windscreen wipers going at full tilt, see couldn’t see the road through the red mist. She had been listening to a phone in show on BBC Radio 2 & a caller had just phoned to opine that it was cruel for sheep & cows to be left out in the fields during wet weather without any shelter. As a nation, we are truly truly b*ggered !