For those of you who now have your 2011 Mrs Smith calendar, enjoy defacing it with many squiggly lines or the odd appointment and consider yourself on my top 10 best friends list or related to me. Those of you who don't have one it's either because I haven't delivered them all or because I hate you.
Got back from the sea absolutely ravenously starving and ate some rather delicious lamb thingy I found. It appears Mr Smith had cooked it for dinner tonight as a welcome home for me. Oh dear. I'd better whizz to the butcher and buy more lamb and try to replicate whatever it was.
The general standard of Christmas card through our letterbox is pretty shoddy this year. The best so far is a large moose from the vet and the worst the W-Bs who boastfully sent a photograph of themselves with billions of orfspring. Someone please tell them this isn't quite the done thing; a robin in aid of cancer says it so much better. Well done to I D Jane who made her cards herself but actually has done them so well you would be convinced they were shop.
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