Ah, normally at this time of year I'm in Barnet Church, singing carols with everyone else's strange family while the Offsprogs hang out at my house watching crap TV. This year it's me watching crap TV along with the rest of the population as we wait for the Coronavirus to go away wondering if we will survive if we succumb to it. And no Offsprogs. Not a terribly cheery thought really, and unsurprisingly I've eaten most of a blackberry cake (made with foraged blackberries), to compensate for the misery.
TV programmers think we all love Victoria Wood, Father Ted, Coronation Street, Eastenders and lots and lots and LOTS of quiz shows. I don't like any of those shows, so I'm channel-hopping and wishing I'd bought some crisps, but I forgot.
Tomorrow is going to be an outdoor lunch with hot water bottles stuffed up our coats, socially distanced at a garden table with individual portions in recycled Indian Takeaway containers. It's going to be very, very cold and a flask of coffee is going to be in order. The urban foxes will watch from their eyrie on top of the dilapidated shed, and wonder what the strange humans are doing. I have Christmas Crackers packed so it all goes off with a bang!