It's Christmas Eve and my Mum's fridge looks like this. Which is just as well really, coz frankly I wouldn't be here unless I could pig out for three straight days. Oh, and in case you think there's a gap on the right hand side, that's only because I took out a pint of milk to make a cup of tea (it was a BIG cup of tea).

Anyhoo, things are going festively, and there's been plenty of entertainment, mainly from my sister, who's had a bad experience at the hairdresser and now looks like Garth out of Wayne's World. Though admittedly she wasn't very pleased when I told her that. Still, it made me laugh, which is what counts.

We've also had a visit from my 6-year-old niece, who demonstrated her ability to sing 'Is This the Way to Amarillo', before demanding to know if Lisa and I are getting married, and suggesting Christmas Day as a suitable date. When I told her it might not be the best time to get married, she went for Boxing Day instead. So I said we'd think about it. Frankly if she's not related to Lisa by the new year, she won't be happy.

In the evening we had a visit from Santa, who'd come all the way from the north pole local Round Table just to shower us with gifts. In the end he agreed to give us a penny chew in return for a donation of a pound. It may not have been a great deal, but it did leave a lasting impression on my niece. As the Christmas sleigh pulled off into the distance, and the traditional carol (by John Lennon) faded, she turned to me with a look of quiet contemplation on her face, and uttered the oh-so-moving words:

"Santa was wearing trainers."

And frankly his sleigh looked more like the back of a pick-up truck. I'm beginning to think he wasn't real at all.