Dja miss me? Didja? Didja?

Life with a busted modem proved to be strangely restful. No blogging (for this was the week I resolved to post EVERY DAY. And I couldn't. Tcha.) No email, no Amazon or eBay (for those people to whom we are giving windscreen wipers, a bag of charcoal briquettes or a car air freshener shaped like a Christmas tree, blame O2, not me) and absolutely no idea of the responsibilities I'd undertaken, or any requests made of me, because my life is contained by my Hotmail account, meant that all I could do was read my book. (Turns out I can ignore screaming children with my nose in a book just as well as I can with my nose superglued to a screen. Go me.)

And it only took three hours and the barest minimum of seasonal swearing to wrestle the new one into place.

And in spite of all my delaying tactics, Christmas is, once again, almost upon us. Term ended - Kit scampered through this final week unscathed by rampant bugs, Beri had to be shovelled, over his loudest protestations, into school, and Sid blithely attended her VERY LAST DAY of Nursery, totally unaware of the end of a blissful era. Jeremy can't quite decide whether to be ill or not (I'm holding my thumbs for Not - he's OC Christmas Lunch tomorrow) and I am On The Up. Jeremy's parents are already here, and hs sisters and families arrive tomorrow - only 16 for lunch. We'll be fine.