Christmas is officially over. There. I've declared it. The tree was rammed back in its box today and the decorations unceremoniously turfed into recycled shopping bags, and out to the shed they go. Number one son and cocker spaniel Bennie rushes in to see if Santa will sing one more time but the fluffy fat man in the red suit is silent as his batteries are now removed. Our pets do well at Christmas time which I think the majority must also do with bits of ham, extra toast from Nanny and more cake crumbs on the floor than usual. The Dyson hits the rug one more time and the last of the glitter and tinsel wrapped disappointments are put away. New Year's Eve comes and goes without a bang here. We don't usually make much of an attempt to stay up for the firework. Just the one. That usually goes off somewhere over the hill or behind us. No resolutions as we know they won't be kept and it needs to be a while before I'm seeing another mince pie. Woolworths have hot cross buns on display today which was noted by a letter to the editor of today's paper stating 'Don't they know what the cross is for?' According to supermarket scripture, He was born, and then crucified about a week later. How gruesome. And so to another year. Hope yours is a cracker.