Horseshit

I've no idea what prompted the stupidly early wakening this morning. I suspect a combination of not being properly tired in the first place, being a wee bit restless and possibly needing a pee but I don't suppose it matters too much. I was getting up at 6.45m anyway so that we could trek to the airport to come home from Brussels after a pleasant wee new year break with the Belgians.

All would have gone swimmingly had we been a bit better prepared and had Ryanair not been a complete bunch of bastards with the luggage weights. We'd paid for 2 x 15kg and yes I read the bit about not being allowed to pool the weight across bags but when you're faced with a family (rather a bunch of scruffy twats) and one small bag of 8kg and one of 19kg, it's not, I don't think, reasonable to try to screw another 80 euro out of them for the too heavy bag. Still, we'd come prepared so rejigged the luggage into two compliant bags and converted the small bag to hand luggage.

But, that inadvertently left the kids' three jars of Speculoos spread in the hand luggage, which being both glass and obviously potential bomb components, meant those were confiscated at security in case we tried to bring down the plane with a sandwich of crushed ginger caramel biscuit. If they'd looked closely they'd have noticed the lack of any bread carrier for the paste, ruling out any terrorist intent and to their credit the security staff did try to reason with their supervisor. I think it was Ewan's devastated expression as his treat was taken away to be eaten by the fat arsed robotic fascists junked.

Apart from that, all went reasonably well apart from Ellen's occasional tearful declarations of how she was missing uncle Alan / Olga / Oscar / Auntie Astrid. She did raise a smile when she loudly asked if the Muslim gents with the particularly spangly headwear (and no Speculoos spread) were the three wise men.

Still, home to make curry for friends, drink drink, eat and generally chat the evening away until they went home leaving me to do that loud falling-asleep-on-the-sofa thing. All without the day being interrupted by the clicking of a shutter. Hence, the snap of the nearby toy. Nice DOF though.

Now, your own bed. What joy.