I might not know much about Christmas trees, but for the past few years, I’ve been inputting sales figures from retail shops so someone more qualified than me can analyse them and present the retailers with facts and figures for maximising profit. I’ve spent most of the night lying on the air mattress, formulating a sort of business plan on the back of the estate agent’s map and when I wake up after a couple of hours of disturbed sleep, I’m feeling a lot more positive about things. This is a business, a retail establishment like any other. To make enough profit to live on, I have to bring in more money than I fork out. Simple.

I’ve been studying the map too, trying to work out how many fields there are and divide the six thousand trees Noel mentioned into some kind of number that makes sense. This is simply a matter of numbers. Trees grown per square acre versus trees sold. I don’t feel as out of my depth when I think about it like that.

I sit up and look around the darkened kitchen, wrapping the sleeping bag around my shoulders because the heater has burnt itself out overnight and the chill in the air is back with a vengeance. I’m excited to get out there. It doesn’t feel as overwhelming as it did last night. It feels like the first day of the rest of my life, and I feel like I can face anything as I pull on some clothes and run upstairs to wash my face and clean my teeth, using only the two-litre bottle of water that Noel brought last night. I eat the last of the pumpkin bread for breakfast and pretend that yesterday’s water is my usual coffee. I promise myself several cups of tea later when the water and electric are back on and I’ve got the kitchen box out of the car.

I’ve got a plan. Noel’s right in that I have absolutely no idea what I’ve bought, so the sensible way forward is to start by making a full inventory of everything I’ve got and everything I’m going to need, and prioritising the budget for it.