Finally, finally someone has missed me. (Thank you Jude).  I will cut the rest of you a little slack for not noticing the gaping chasm in your reading life, what with it being Christmas but I was beginning to have visions of the headlines in the ever inventive local rag.  “Elderly blogger eaten by pet cat”, that sort of thing, “Body undiscovered for six months in Twickenham tragedy”.

Talking of tragic ends  I came close to meeting my maker when packing away the twenty tons of festive decorations that had been cheering my normally minimalist home since, well , actually since last year, certainly for the ones that I couldn’t be bothered to take down in January 17. I went so far as to text a chum  a photo of the chaos that resulted from three hours of wrestling the fairy lights into submission.  “Pensioner garrotted in fairy light horror”.  It’s only a matter of time. She’ll probably put the picture on YouTube and make millions.   I can imagine the conversation over the (fairy light free) coffin.  “She’d have wanted to go like this.  She lived for those lights” . Cue sobbing.

However, on the whole things this year are going well.  So far. The ground floor sanding and sealing has been an enormous, life enhancing success and the life size papier-mâché bull’s head has been installed on the kitchen wall.  It is the finishing touch to a room that would be perfect if I could just get rid of the oven, although in its defence it is currently in a state of bliss having been restored to new by the boy genius with a portable acid bath who comes twice a year to erase all evidence of culinary adventures.  Mr Right or what?  It remains a mystery to science how so much carbon can be generated by the occasional mixing of cocktails in the same room.

And now all that stands between me and an idyllic New Year is the prospect of some lengthy and expensive dental work but I want you to think positively about that, as shall I.  At least I’m still alive and after the last month, that IS a miracle.

Happy New Year!