My gorgeous window cleaner, the one with buttocks so tight they look like two eggs in a hanky has sold his business and has moved abroad to Scotland. In his place is a man who looks like a 55 year old farmer with no teeth, who charges a pound extra to wash the sills.
A wreath of Franklins for your viewing pleasure.
A Christmas card was pushed through my bristled slot this morning, inside, written in gold ink, the words "Merry Crimbo!"
The weather still has it's long face, but my spirits have risen slightly