How wrong can you get it? very considerably, actually. The puffa jacket-wearing hordes were indeed our neighbours, bearing gifts. Gifts of BOGOF puffa jackets, I'm guessing - though I can't say for sure, as I'm not allowed to open my parcel till Christmas Day - or "Yule Morn" as we call it Hereabouts. Geoffrey has rigged up an electric fence style enclosure, in which our garishly packaged gifts sit side by side like a right pair of lemons. Or should I say, satsumas, pointlessly studded with cloves, to resemble something akin to Desperate Dan's testicles? not that we ever eat "fruit" (as I believe it's called?), but from leaflets stuffed through our letterbox relentlessly and without so much as a by your leave, we DO know that it exists and is important to some, as part of a so-called balanced diet.
Hark! I hear a rumbling noise, and it's getting louder and louder (yes, it IS my stomach - I feel a Lorne and brown sauce roll coming on) but there's something else as well.....
a blazing Yule log is rolling down the hill - and it's heading for...AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
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