What exactly is the point of Christmas cards? Why do people who've not picked up the phone to say hi once during the last twelve months suddenly feel compelled to mail me images of bloated snowmen? One card arrived with "write soon" scribbled in one corner. Hmm, if memory serves me well, this same person had written a similar message on the card she sent last year, and when I did write a letter no reply was forthcoming. I won’t be bothering again. Bah humbug. Certainly we’ve had no real snowmen here this year. In fact, we’ve not even had an overnight frost. It’s so mild that I’ve got roses coming into full bloom in the garden, and around the village are cherry trees in flower. This is not normal winter weather! Anyway, half of the seasonal nonsense is now over, and the shops are desperately trying to sell us the same junk which we didn’t want before the 25th. We had to brave the insanity of Birkenhead on the 24th, unfortunately, as my digital camera isn’t working pr

So there I was, contentedly strolling home from the village, drenched despite my umbrella. In my other hand swung a carrier bag plump with a new jumper. As I approached the dog-legged walk-through which cuts five minutes off the journey, I could hear a man’s heavy footsteps getting quickly closer behind me. Call me paranoid if you wish, but I took the long route which brought me within sniffing-range of the takeaway. “Hmm,” said my inner alter-ego, the one who has no regard for calories, “it’s light years since I had a curry. I’d really like something hot and spicy.” And so, my will power being somewhat soggy due to the torrential rain, (she says, grasping straws - or should that be "oars"?), I thoroughly enjoyed a rather tasty chicken curry served on a bed of steamed rice. Now, understand this: this household rarely dines on takeaway food. It’s expensive, often tastes mediocre at best, and tends to be saturated in goodness knows what kind of fat which is goodness knows how

When the conversation you’re having is destined to become a blog post, you know you’ve been on-line too long…. Me: Remember Sylvia? Well, she’s teaching drama at our old school now. Slightly Dippy Relative (SDR): Does she do demonstrations? Me: I expect so. SDR: Karma – that’s that Chinese thing where they move slowly. Me: Huh? No, that’s Tai Chi! SDR: What’s karma, then? Me: That’s the philosophy of how you reap what you sow. SDR: (mumbles) Me: Anyway, she’s teaching drama, not karma. SDR: Oh, that’s no good, then. *** I have just learned that a friend of mine, who is in her eighties, is recovering from a stroke which temporarily rendered her unable to speak. Peggy’s doctor has told her that her heart could give up at any time, but then she’s already been living with that idea for the two decades that I’ve known her. Her speech seemed fully recovered when we were talking over the telephone. The stroke has damaged one arm and one side of her face, she told me.