It was touch and go at one stage, but at my age, the act of survival is a victory in itself.
It was a quiet Christmas.
Only five empty whiskey bottles, one empty Guinness keg and a partridge in a pear tree.
Dinner was lovely. I never knew reindeer was so nice. I don’t know which one it was. Rudolf? Dancer? Vixen? Who cares.
Santa is currently on a gurney down in the local hospital. Doubtless he’ll be there until Easter at least, knowing our health system. He should consider himself lucky to have survived the missile attack with only two broken legs, a ruptured spleen and 90% burns.
Only 364 days until Christmas.