That’s the essence of my plan for the next week. If we can expand the definition to include “drinking“, “more drinking” “and “probably too much drinking“. Other duties include the controlled explosion of an increasingly excited smallest child, sledge-captain and fitter of inappropriate tyres.

My play week includes two days at Afan, for which I’m considering replacing a perfect serviceable tyre pair with something entirely untried. The reason for this reboot is simply that the new rubber is looking at me in a funny way, and I’ve contracted a bad case of itchy-thumb-itis.

What I’ll not be doing is spending much time in front of a screen. Too much of my life seems to be wasted on that particular occupation. So before uncorking my lunch, I’ll bid my loyal – if disturbed and clearly lacking anything better to do – readership an extremely Merry Christmas and a new year not entirely covered in ice and snow.

In terms of presents, I shall again be receiving an extremely large hangover from Santa, generally accompanied by two children jumping on my sore head. 6am or thereabouts if history is a marker.

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