Them Were The Days

It's very wet today but still a colleague and I go out for a lunch time stroll in the rain The lamb and mint pie and an excellent dark ale called Starry Night from Black Hole help us get through it.

This year’s Christmas Goose has gone online. Our farm shop's weekend hours only extend to noon on Saturdays and we just haven’t been able to get to ‘order in person’ as required. So I tried to order as local as possible online instead. So it’s coming up from Somerset. I nearly managed a Yorkshire one but it turned out to be too small, too expensive and would have probably come with built in Yorkshire grumpiness anyway.

Anyhow, it arrived this morning, in a box. So I assume it’s dead which was one of my concerns, as the website wasn’t very clear on this.

'Sexual misconduct, embezzlement, and treason' comes in another message from L in reference to her current reading matter. She does like her Tudors and she does have a point, them were the days. I shall have to get her a period bodice for Christmas.

I get home to find a body rolled up in a duvet and dumped across our new settee. Daughter's home! It’s just like she’s never been away. We’re got a bigger sofa now and there’s still nowhere to sit.

L is shopping in town and reports a sighting of some Treacle Stout at the H&H. I offer to collect her from town and we pop in for one or we try. Standing room only, or rather no standing room at all, so it must be bloody good. We go in the Ropewalk instead, who have Honey Milk Stout which is probably as good if not better. Clearly it is the season to be Stoutly.

(Thursday 20th December)