Taxi !

Up and out the cottage by 9am, a wet and overcast drive, over the bridge this time: some 230 miles, but back in good time to drop the lad off and arrive home for the warmest of greetings. She's kept aside for me all the chocolates from the odd numbered days of the advent calendar. This is clearly a serious relationship.
Then on with party gear and up to Harvey Nics to meet up with P&K for a Christmas dinner. I'm beginning to think K must detest meeting me. I outline the week in Skye, including the coos (hilariously retold of course), but also the culinary delights I wizarded up. My gushing partner brings up (not literally) the blue cheese frittata. P stares at K - "do you hear that, K? Blue cheese frittata!" Poor K. Too busy earning a living. He chomps on his duck through gritted teeth. And he didn't order his duck to be pink, either. More points off.