A muddly breakfast this morning. I think we're having too many late nights. Adam made a christmas decoration out of the tube from a kitchen towel roll. We think it might have been a joke, but we can't be quite sure, so it will probably have to stay out until twelfth night, and then be put away and brought out year after year, looking ever more sad and impoverished.
Just before the sausages were done a rat climbed up the bird table, so I had to sneak upstairs and shoot it from the bedroom window. So Christmassy.
Then we somehow got into a discussion about who we would most wish to be on a desert island with. K chose Ricky Gervais. Bob chose Ray Mears, pointing out that they could rub sticks together. Worrying.