Sloe gin, warm dog, piece of baklava, Joanna Trollope novel, thick socks, HIGNFY and this blanket:
Chunky wool/alpaca blend; started knitting it some time late spring, with a view to taking it to knitting camp instead of a sleeping bag. This event was a fibre arts festival held in central Finistère which I and my Quessquitricote knitting buddies had rather dared each other to go to and camp out in pop-up tents without husbands or dogs. I really would have done it, but the conflagration intervened and minching off on a fibre arts jolly was no longer on the cards. However, three of my pals made it and sent me a post card, and I got the blanket finished in time anyway; before I had even woven the ends in, Tom had grabbed it and started sleeping under it during our first stay at the gite, where despite its wool and camelid weight and cosiness, he found it more breathable and comfortable than the duvet there in the early, nightmares and night sweats days after the fire.
Now, happily, it's getting chilly enough to enjoy snuggling under it on the sofa. The fibre festival takes place somewhere way off down south next year, so I doubt I'll make it to it then, but who knows, I may yet get to camp out with the blanket. I've really had enough adventures for this year though.