The last entertaining of the season is done. Alas, as soon as the bottles were opened, the drink went straight to my head. So I really can't tell if it was a good do or a bad. The fish pie was too dry, that's for sure. But as the last guests left forty minutes ago, they were full of compliments:-) Filling the dishwasher, my own cheer fizzled out. All day I've had a sore throat. And been sneezing. I fear a lurgy is lurking. As they departed for Oxford, the kids were sneezy too. It must have been all the air kissing at Christmas. On the actual day, we had a no-show. Instead, the missing guest sent two cryptic texts. Claiming to have hit problems in Barnet. Despite living in Brixton... And not a word since! The dog who turned up uninvited was a poor conversational substitute:-o It was strange too, to have the festive bird arrive ready cooked. With a family of four from Camden Town. Who'd taken it upon themselves to supply and roast it. All morning I'd missed the rich aroma of yuletide flesh rising through the house. "It makes the day," I whined. We won't be job-sharing the jollies again:-o On Boxing Day, lunch with my friend H. It was a stonking meal and we all had fun despite her wonderful mother who this time last year was smoking, drinking whisky and playing charades, now being wheelchair-bound. The old lady winced with pain as her daughter wrapped her up to go home at the end of the day. "This is my last Christmas," she said without emotion. "I hope so, Mummy," said H, sadly.