On that note, Sneaky Cattette rolled over and commenced a deep communion with her unconscious.

Secret Santa sent a sandman to scent the very centre of her senses. And all through the night the insistent mumbling message monopolised her train of thought, repeating its Remorseless rhythmic rumbling for seekers new or old: "Rocking, rolling, riding, out along the bay, all bound for Morningtown, many miles away."

But when she awoke, for some unfathomable reason all had changed: the stormy night was replaced with a glorious morning and the rumble of the wheels faded to "Lavender's green, dilly dilly, lavender's blue, when you know me, dilly dilly, what will you do?"

Secret Santas never sleep, but sometimes they can be a bit dozy :-)