It is lovely here BUT the visitors have arrived.
Fatted calf appears to have been ritually slaughtered. Chaos echos around the upper reaches of the house from sundry children and that croaking scouse accent is drifting through from the kitchen interspersed with occasional "Oh really" from SWMBO.
I am now about to shut my study door very firmly and bury myself in the Sunday Telegraph, followed by the Sunday Times, finishing off with the Mail on Sunday. I shall emerge to do my manly stuff with a carving knife and that will be the end of my involvement.
Yes I am registering a protest ~ I wonder if anyone will actually notice.
Shouldda gone fishin'.