Stockeld Park.

I've never had a better Christmas Eve! M and I had a lovely long lie, then a huuuge brunch, followed by a drive out to Stockeld Park (about a mile from my old house, a small but very Yorkshire village called Sicklinghall).

We had fun outdoor ice-skating, then when we felt we'd chanced our luck enough by not breaking our no-falling record, headed off for a short walk through the park to the village pub, The Scotts Arms. We managed to find a tiny table in the alcove by a roaring log fire, and had a lovely lunch and a pint. On the walk back to the park, I showed M the low-hanging tree branch I used to ride, pretending it was a horse (I hankered after a pony for 9 years before my parents finally caved). He didn't seem that impressed, even when I demonstrated the technique - city slicker. This Blip is not the tree in question, but another fine specimen.

Back home now for (another) Hendrick's and tonic and a traditional Christmas Eve meal with Mum and Dad.