So here we are another Christmas survived.
Arnie has lost another one of his nine lives in an almighty scrap with another cat, he’s bruised and battered but barring the dent in my bank balance, only his pride has suffered.
Bonnie has endured countless soggy dog-walks this holiday as the whole of the United Kingdom has been battered by storms. I can’t see the chickens’ legs for mud.
The house is still bomb site of toys and pine needles and tidying up is the last thing on my mind right now as that can all come next week, (or maybe I’ll hibernate until spring).

See you in 2016.

Angie.