Mcrumble's Christmas message

Hello all

This year we shall be having a somewhat muted Christmas. With no income to speak of, we have called a moratorium on presents - although Ravel has volunteered to make us all something 'traditional' from bits of wood he's scavenged. He claims he spent many a happy day in the Bulgarian forest near his childhood home, whittling and carving logs into animal shapes that he would sell to tourists. I wait to see what he manages to do with the local timber.

In other news, Dolores has invited the elderly lady she works for in the village over for Christmas dinner. This charitable gesture was not popular with the twins, who told me they didn't want 'some farting old biddy' ruining their Christmas. I was minded to chastise them for referring to the lady in such a way, but then remembered how she managed to force us out of her house some weeks ago by using her downstairs toilet and leaving the door open after a particularly noisy evacuation. It remains to be seen whether she can exercise self-restraint as we tuck into the Christmas bird (a pheasant, scavenged by Ravel, cause of death unknown but most likely a blow to the head as judged by it's rather squashed beak and the splatter of blood found nearby).

Dolores has told me that I should make a new-year's resolution to get us out of the barn and into proper accomodation. She pointed at the blog and asked why, if I'm still a 'celebrity', can't I use my status to get a decent job? I did point out to her that I use the word 'celebrity' somewhat sardonically, and that any celebrity status I enjoyed has long since passed, and that she knew full well that if I could do something about our situation, I would. She reminded me at this point that I am still on probation, and told me I should think long and hard about improving our lifestyle. No 3, she said, is not going to be brought up in a barn.

My situation brings me to introspection at this time of year, and on more than one occasion I've been brought to tears with emotions of shame, self-pity, hopelessness and helplessness. As I look round my family I see people I love dearly, but my sense of failure brings any attempts at reconciliation to a short stop. Dolores is remarkably patient, but I sense that I might be on a time limit here.

Oh well, enought about me. Merry Christmas everyone!

J McC