So, Christmas is over for another year. Christmas Day wasn’t so bad - had a bit of a lie-in followed by a leisurely breakfast listening to The Archers (just like any other Sunday then). I can’t believe Betty’s dead! Actually it did bring back bad memories as my mum died just over a week before Christmas (though quite a long time ago now). I remember sitting there on Christmas Day 1986 not wanting to open gifts from under the tree and then seeing the gifts that were there for her, and bursting into tears of course. Anyway, back to this year. Went to the pub and had a couple of drinks. Karen, the landlord’s daughter, was there with her seven kids (actually it may have only been six, I didn’t see any sign of John her eldest) who are all lovely. The youngest, Rowan who’s three, was dressed as an elf with ’Santa’s Little Helper’ written across the back. Cute. Came back, had a big cooked dinner about 4.30 and promptly fell asleep. Thankfully woke in time for Dr Who, though I was vaguely disappointed by this ‘Christmas special’. I realised this morning that though I’d spoken to several friends and family on the day itself I hadn’t actually spoken to a single person yesterday. I’ve decided that it would be a nice day to walk up Moel Famau, so I’m going to have breakfast and sod off out of the flat.