the night before Christmas

I can’t claim that nought was stirring, not even a mouse. Once the children went to bed, Antony and I endured a catalogue of calamities due to a plumbing mishap. At the point when we managed to tip the fridge over (and the food within slid out), I had to hide myself for a small weep.

I imagine the very first Christmas wasn’t without its mishaps - birth is rarely a clean and quiet affair.

Gratefuls:

1. 3 bouncy children;
2. Stumbling upon carols in the medieval square in Old Glossop;
3. A happy glass of cava with friends before the chaos erupted.