In the bleak midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, the family gathered and had a lovely Christmas. Diz phoned just after I'd finished the floor and we were off early - Angel and I in the back like taxi customers. Angel was a love, quiet and still and sociable with the sheepdog and the dalmatian we met at what used to be the Leicester Forest services, but it doesn't seem to have a name anymore.

Here's David whose beard has gone all bushy and voice has gone to his boots since the summer:

This is Abigail who has got the latest Pratchett and wasn't letting go in case anyone knicked it:

And this is everyone except me and Pete - Susan is in the middle of a story.

Now we're back and mum is with us. She is talking of being home be the 7th - cos the fish man is coming - but I'm hoping she extends it, she is very uncertain on her feet.