We are not travelling this Christmas, thanks be to Whomever Is In Charge. Himself's sister, the acknowledged Niner of the kin group, took a bit of a spell on Friday and spent several hours in A&E, where she was told to cancel all Christmas commitments and Rest with a capital R. She phoned us to say Stay Home, It's All Orf.

I'm sorry she had a bad scare, but I'm not at all sorry to not be spending the week between Christmas and New Year's Day on the road in what can be the most dangerous weather of an Ontario winter. It's not as cold yet as it will be by mid-January, so the risk of sleet is high; indeed, we skidded home from the Boxing Day sales yesterday with rain freezing on the windscreen faster than the blue goo could dissolve it. Today was not much better.

Best of all, Christmas dinner was at The Brother's house, so, not only did we eat excessively well, but also my kitchen never developed into that bombed-out bordello state, and I did not have to spend half of Boxing Day over the sink, washing stemware.

And we got luverly prezzies and far too much chocolate. Life is excellent.