Postman Pat

Really thought it was Saturday today. Felt like a Saturday. Even put together a 'Saturday Sequence'. But, turns out, it's just Friday. Ah well.

Dragged the postman here kicking and screaming to the barbers and then the butchers first thing this morning (one for a haircut, the other for sausage, bacon and tattie scones; I'll let you decide which was which) then set about trying to find things for the hyperactive pair to do. Dishwasher has been filled and emptied then filled again, floors have been cleaned, furniture's been dusted, washing's been hung and cards have been written and delivered. Still not burnt them out I don't think, but Heather's off to do some proper work now and Euan's went a bit quiet blowing up things on his PS3.

Since early doors there's been a continual stream of raw ingredients being turned into great looking and fantastic smelling food from the kitchen, produced to a soundtrack of the same old Christmassy tunes on a constant loop in the background, and brought through on various kitchen implements for a 'wee taste'.

Aye, that'll be your Christmas on its way then.