Bombay mix and pork weeners

So the festive period is rather wearily standing upon its last legs held up by empty New Year’s resolutions and a quiet anticipation of the year that will follow. Christmas on my behalf was an overwhelming surge of canine excursions, failing attempts to capture lost traditions and an overdose of Bombay mix and those little pork sausage things wrapped up in bacon. Home and its rural setting offered a welcome break from London and the hellhole of full time employment plus the realisation that my once baby brother was no longer as young as I thought, proven perfectly by the gaggle of teenage girls that regularly accumulated at our front door. With enough make up on to push Bette Midler overboard and skirts so short that I felt like their gynaecologist it was an abrupt reminder that times were achanging. So enough bullshit and instead a rather half hearted welcome to the New Year and p.s Summer can you like hurry the fuck up please? I’m somewhat over freezing my ass off.