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Well as you probably guessed from my absence, the weekend, as weekends are prone to do, went to pot. I do not have a decorated house, or a beautiful Christmas tree. I have a strand of smoked garlic and two scrumptious goat cheese and quite frankly, compensation wise, it just ain’t good enough…

Yesterday my friend was hospitilised so I had to go and finish a mural she had started in a childrens playcentre which was utterly blissful, because there is nothing like being engrossed in painting and for a few hours I remembered who I used to be, then today Finley and I were stranded in Southport after Marks work took much longer than he hoped (Five hours longer!) and we had no choice but to spend far too much money in Laura Ashley Home,  after which we wanderered along the deliciously Christmassy Continental Market, munching crepes (me) and  jacket potatoes (Finn) before taking a seat on a bench and savouring a cup of German something, which was hot and delicious and made of who knows what…

Finally we made it home, full of Christmas spirit and ready to put the tree up when Mark was called out to work again and now I find myself alone  next to a tree as bare as the day it was planted…

Still there’s alway’s the goats cheese…

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