my mum and dad used to read me a poem when i was young which started "i can't abide the butcher, i can't abide his meat".

i still feel a bit wary in butcher's shops and usually turn in to a complete air head, clutching my list and not really wanting to think about where it all came from.

in oxford with mum to choose my xmas present - what a wise mother she is to make sure we shop for it together and what a fine present it is. and then my lovely sister arrived, with two neices in tow, to play energetic and very enthusiastic pillow fights with carpet biter 2 who loves a bit of mindless violence. the cushions are now plumped beyond their wildest dreams and all other adults were driven out by the amount of dust flying about. the nieces showed their total cool by sitting on granny's computer sending msn messages.