Patricia wrote the inscription and we were all affected by the poignancy of her words. For me, it was because I knew she understood how enormous a gift he gave to Nico. They both did. We thought that maybe visitors would read it and relate it to the setting, maybe sitting here to take a tranquil moment to remember loved ones they’d lost.

We’re all looking forward to getting through March and anticipating the usual, milder weather April has been forecasted to bring with it. Our newest staff member will arrive in a week’s time. Yann Bisson is a personal fitness trainer and I’m hoping to join in with some of his classes. Maybe that will finally shake off the winter blues which don’t seem to want to go this year.

The place does have much more of a buzz these days and the visitors are responding well to the new facilities on offer. Every morning, the gym becomes the meditation zone between ten and eleven. I’m still assisting Pierce by being another set of eyes and ears.

Now I have a better understanding, I can sit down next to someone and demonstrate the correct sitting position. Some people find it hard to get comfortable and often it’s a case of doubling up the mats to help. Occasionally, we might have someone with a knee problem which prevents them from sitting on the floor, so I try and find a suitable chair.

There are two ground-floor rooms in the cottage which are permanent quiet rooms, although I find even that too intrusive with people coming and going. Instead, I’ve taken to heading up into the attic space in the château when I need time alone. The bedrooms here are infinitely more private than the accommodation the staff now have in the courtyard buildings. The walls are thin there, and the rooms are smaller. I miss being here, close to Nico, too. But every evening is spent in the studio together and I treasure that time.

There’s something about the transitional period when winter bows out reluctantly but the signs of spring are few and far between. I long to get outdoors, but the unusual amount of rain this year makes it difficult. If I was at home, it would be freezing cold, of course, and we’d still be spending our evenings in front of the gas fire in the sitting room.

We heard today that our paintings have arrived safely at the gallery in Seville and will be on display as early as next week, so I should be feeling elated, but instead I’m deflated. Maybe it’s because I’m a little under the weather; I’ve had a sore throat and a headache off and on for nearly two weeks now and this virus doesn’t seem to want to leave me alone.