I'm available for rent

Not like that.

I've supported England a long while now and ever since the first tournament I can remember - the 1982 World Cup - we have succeeded in not winning a single trophy.

Surreptitious Show Off

You know when you're having a chat with someone and you're both basically stating facts that you already know, you know the other person already knows and it's a bonding, pre-going-over-the-top experience which soothes the pain of the massive amount of work which is suddenly going to land on your tiny plate? And then you say,

Christmas emotions

You're gently perusing the cupboard hoping for a biscuit. Perhaps a half-eaten bag of crisps. It's forty minutes until dinner and there's no way you can make it. Then you happen upon 

A Christmas mirage. 

A Christmas miracle, 

A Christmas Miragicle:

A forgotten box of spies!

But then you get all middle aged and PC and you find this:

 

Briefly you wrestle with the dilemma until you remember your new apron:

It's time like these when you realise you still live on the edge.

Social Extrication

Twelve hours into the New Year and I was inwardly congratulating myself on not having switched on the TV, thereby not having exposed myself to any eye chewing gum; viewing for the sake of it rather than watching because I want to watch something in particular. The congratulations were short-lived when I realised that both my wife and I were side-by-side, phone-in-hand, most likely both on Facebook as our toddler played at our feet.