Just got back from dad’s which sadly denigrated into “I’ve lost XXXX” and we spent the normal hour hunting around the house (found a stack of sweeties hidden in the drawer like a diabetic squirrel and the gloves I bought him last year which he said he’d lost) but not the XXXX we were looking for. Sigh. Then he’d forget what we were looking for – I wish he wouldn’t WORRY about stuff the way he does.
Now, I’m mopping up the Christmas food. Pigs in blankets and chocolates. Also I’ve invented a Christmas Fondue. balls of left over Christmas Pudding being dipped into double cream.