New Year's Day and feeling stuffed. Eaten too much, drunk too much and not taken nearly enough exercise. The recycling lorry has never seen anything like it. Our house has been like a 10 day 'festival of excess'. The sort of thing that brought the Romans down. I did manage to finish the Francis Urquart trilogy by Michael Dobbs and all the nougat and touron. But now Tim and Adrienne have gone to Ireland, Pat and Verity have gone back to Maidenhaid, Sally has gone back to Nottingham and tomorrow Edward returns to work in Cork - and in a week's time Karen and baby Ffion join him. Our house is going to be so so quiet.
Anyway, we need some time to recover. Tomorrow, we re off to Sally's in Nottingham with some furnishings for her house - and one or two odd jobs. Friday/Saturday we're down to Cardiff to check over the flat and catch up with Edna Mopbucket for some gossip. And next Monday, we head down to Heathrow for onward passage to Barbados for 10 days (assuming Virgin Aircraft employees haven't all taken Richard Branson's advice and gone to work elsewhere). I'm taking my running kit with me. I hope we don't have a surprise election while we're away. This is my way of saying that blogging will be sporadic over the next three weeks, and will depend on my access to the Internet. Won't be back full time til 20th January.