Roller coaster

I'm not sure all this exciting activity is good for an old scrote whose only ambition is to do nothing for a while followed by a nice rest. Having put Jeremy and Sarah on the coach to Heathrow on Wednesday morning (they have both arrived safely back in NZ and USA respectively), I went back later to collect my "adopted granddaughter", Bruna. She is only here for three days before going to visit friends in London and Paris, and then back to Brazil. Three days out of a two-week trip to Europe, her first, just to visit her English avozinho: I am privileged and humbled both. Bruna is great company, bubbly, lively, curious about everything and a very quick learner. We have managed to visit Cambridge, drool over King's College, have lunch in Auntie's Tea Shop, buy a ukulele (for Bruna, not me - I long ago gave up setting conditions for failure), visit Ely and the cathedral, and have coffee with various of my lovely local friends.
We have sung songs, listened to choro, talked in foreign tongues, eaten scrambled eggs, laughed till our jaws ached, and explored a zillion topics. Mes chers potes, there may be luckier men on earth than me, but there can't be many.
Christmas is almost upon us. If I can stir my ageing carcase, I will go to Midnight Mass tonight. When you are as lucky as I am, you need to say thank you to someone.....