A Lancashire Christmas

We escaped from work a day early and headed north on Friday 23rd. The M6 caused us no trouble for once but we did arrive in Lancashire in the rain.

Fortunately, the weather lifted (literally) and we were afforded fine views of Pendle. The bright blue frosty skies more than made up for the lack of snow and we managed a few gentle strolls in between enormous meals.

Ian took me on a tour of the top end of Great Harwood and we took Grandpa down to feed extra strong mints to the horse in Dinckley (when I narrowly avoided having my fingers bitten off). Dougall then accompanied us on a lap of the copse behind Elsie's house in St Michael's On Wyre, flushing out a huge hare and raising a grouse from the undergrowth in the process.

Our hosts had managed to lay on some impressive wildlife too: a gorgeous pheasant and a sleepy hedgehog in Great Harwood and a nuthatch in St Michael's.

Too much relaxation proved harmful though - I came down with a temperature and lost my appetite before my Christmas dinner. I limped off to bed and woke up the next morning having turned bright red! In due course, the doctor diagnosed Epstein-Barr Virus - a precursor to glandular fever. I'm still convinced that it's scarletina - a much more romantic proposition. We shall see how it develops...

For some wintry snaps, click here.

Noel Chez Johnson

Johnson and Georgie made fine festive hosts last night when we joined them in Newbury for a Christmas party. There was a roaring fire in the hearth and tomtes danced around the picture rail. A fine spread had been laid on with Georgie's special deep-fried edam and Minnie's delicious hummus.

The last minute theme this time was "Wear what you would wear when you're going to take over the world." My pirate jacket re-emerged and Skene selected a black shirt and tie and a brown V-neck.

The Woods 100 came out sooner rather than later and there was a jolly-old knees-up shortly after midnight. Johnson sang Ernie the Fastest Milkman in the West and Right Said Fred and by some miracle neither the neighbours nor the local constabulary paid us a visit.

When it got really wild, Lorna and I retreated to the delightful Chieveley Travelodge and the boys partied on until dawn.

A Sunday lunchtime trip to the Living Rainforest had the expected restorative effect.

For some odd photos, click here.

Let it Snow!

All this talk of snow and ice has had me on tenterhooks! It seems to me that the bright white stuff is the natural antidote to short days and long nights. But now December has dawned mild and wet. What a disappointment. Maybe we can count on Lancashire weather...