End Of An Era

There's a bit of a commotion this morning as Doggo tries to see off one of Daughter's friends and in the process nips L. So, that's nought out of two dogs now getting presents in our house this Christmas.

I'm in the car today as its pub day and it turns out to be the end of an era. The chef and her husband, who have served us well for 8 years or so, retire on Sunday. They will be well and truly missed. It was appropriate that the legendary cottage pie was on the menu and was a good as ever. A fitting way to go out. What comes next for food at the Flowerpot I'm not sure, they are an impossible act to follow.

To wash it down the pub had no less than twelve Christmas ales on. I sample the Christmas pud ale, which even tastes a bit like the real thing. Very nice.

I finally get around to writing my Christmas cards, all seven of them. Most of the people I know have given up the ritual and I'm certainly not complaining. That's my meagre contribution to the 1.8 billion that are sent in the UK each year, and which causes 200,000 trees to be felled.

Squash is off. My opponent has been in bed all week with some sort of flu and reckons he could barely lift a squash racquet, let alone hit the ball... or an eye socket. He charitably decides not to play because it would be too embarrassing for me when he beat me in that state. Hmmm. It's a no win situation, if I did win he'd claim he was ill. We've rebooked for Tuesday, the leisure centre think they're open but they're not sure...

As it's the end of the week, for L, we take the boys down the Plough, where there's yet another new landlord and it's also free chilli night. Not to be sneezed at. It's also quiz night, which we usually avoid but we get talked into this one. L seems oddly competitive, even more so when we come second with 25 points out of 40. The winner got 27. Now if only the Titanic was built in Newcastle and we knew the lyrics to 'Windmills of your Mind'.