Dry January

The day unfolds predictably. People surface and then some return to the horizontal. Ailsa battles the hangover to create breakfast, which is scoffed in short order. Angus begins a marathon watching of The Wire. The rest of us watch a weird Swedish fun about trolls.

Tony and Leila eventually head for Edinburgh, but there are no other losses. Robbie pops round to first foot. As does Michael.

I serve up the soup that I made yesterday and we supplement that with road in the hole - and a chunky cabbage the Stuart knocks up.

After that the evening begins to descend predictably. I am having a dry January, so observe the shenanigans objectively - and go to bed early.