Can't complain

I've spent my only day off this week, and a lovely sunny day too, perfect for a ride, I might add - the only antidote for my ever-burgeoning posterior and plummeting fitness - doing our last two years' tax. We have some fiddly investments and a big messy study where vital papers are prone to disappearing without trace. I think there's a wormhole somewhere in there leading to a parallel dimension. Its inhabitants must be startled by the frequent, inexplicable manifestations of bank statements and sunglasses. Sigh. I hope I learn from this.
Still, I'll be wrapping Christmas presents tonight after dinner. That's fun. The Christmas cards are made and the letter written, so I'll be sending them out tomorrow too. I love sending cards. Email me your address so I can send you one too. Not if you're a creepy stalker of course. You can just go away.
Is it mince pie time yet?

More anon, cheerful vaguesters!