As per usual the cupboards, fridge and freezers are packed with grub. All for the festive season and also as per bloody usual Woodstock is guarding the supplies against all comers. "Not until tomorrow" is her battle cry. She is now wandering the house soliciting and rejecting ideas for lunch and dinner today ..... everything it seems is earmarked for the days of festive feasting which may not, under any circumstances, be started before 0800 tomorrow.

I am now off to the KFC to get lunch for self and kids.

Sometimes I feel the will to live slipping away from me.
