This week has flown by. Time is definately elastic. Christmas preparations are now virtually complete. This year, we've decided to brine the turkey before cooking it, a la Nigella, so I'm collecting the bird on Monday from the butcher and then dunking it into a bucket full of good things before roasting it on Christmas Eve. Always tricky to do a big meal in an oven that you don't feel completely bonded with - and I LOATHE the blasted hob, which is one of those funny solid ones, that doesn't glow, takes forever to heat up, and even more eternity to cool down. Grrr. Can't wait till we get our own house up here. Anyway, the stove will not prevent a goodly range of delicious festive baking. Yesterday we went to the farmer's market, and stocked up on a range of goodies, mainly meat, eggs and vegetables. Delicious free range pork and local Welsh Black beef, handmade sausages and crisp green leeks - what could be nicer?

The bungalow is looking quite festive with a range of lights, pretty candles, lots of cards and various decorations. Sadly, there's simply no room for a tree - this is the first Christmas I've EVER not had a tree, and it seems really odd. I miss that gorgeous smell, the resiny feel of the needles, the satisfaction of decorating it with baubles that each have their own history. For instance, I still have some I bought on a pre-Christmas trip to Brittany in the winter of 1991, and some others which are even older and go back to my living in Swansea in a flat in Mt. Pleasant.

It's been a while since I included any gratuitous shots of the dogs - so pray indulge me. Sensitive viewers should immediately go elsewhere......

As I write this, there are seven long tailed tits on the bird feeder in front of the window, munching seeds with a small gang of blue tits waiting for their opportunity to move in. Great.