We're all one year closer to our graves

The trouble with for a house guest is that, at every party to which you take her, she has to listen to you tell the sodium atoms joke*. At least for a husband, it comes under the heading of 'For Worse' (among other things (MANY other things). I know already.) not least of which is, he wants to tell the joke himself.

One of the (many) pleasures of a visit from Teresa was the vegetarian option. Our hosts for New Year's Eve dinner had the totally brilliant idea of hiring a caterer, who, for the omnivores among us, provided a perfectly yummy salmon-and-sea-bass en croute, and for the rest, a leek and gruyere - well, thing (flamiche? It could have been a flamiche) - in the face of which said omnivores developed unforeseen veggie tendencies. And Elaine brought Poinsettias**.

All eight children got along together fantastically well, Greg sang some Jake Thackeray songs, and we discovered that six is quite a small number of people for singing Auld Lang Syne.

*Na1 'I've lost an electron!'
Na2 'Are you sure?'
Na1 'I'm positive!'

** Cointreau, cranberry juice and champagne. Yum, yum and thrice yum.