Discarded

All I want from Santa is an ark, umbrellas do not last long in windy Edinburgh and are difficult to manoeuvre in throngs of people when height challenged.

This I hasten to add is not my brolly; no mine was safely at home while I got another wetting on my way into town to spy out the competition in the turkey stakes.
On the premiss ' a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush', I am considering buying a frozen one thus avoiding the melee nearer Christmas trying to grab a fresh one.

I enjoyed the dithering round the shops without His Lordship tapping his foot at my back. He has opted for a solitary walk in the hills near Peebles. There was no invitation for me to accompany him this time, which spared a polite refusal.
Miserable as it was in rain soaked streets of the city, the thought of tramping through sodden ground in the wet hills seemed like fun I could do without. Of course, when he returns he will tell me the sun was shining in Peebles. I will not believe him for a minute.