Bah, humbug! Done it again. Forgot to alter the date on my perpetual calendar, realised this morning that it was actually the 28th and not the 24th, and that I'd missed Christmas, and not for the first time. Oh well, there's always next year. Personally, I blame that Pope Gregory geezer from the sixteenth century - if he hadn't b*ggered up the calendar, and just left things as that great man Julius Caesar decreed back in 46 BC, we wouldn't be celebrating Christmas until 7th January and I wouldn't be in this mess now.

Mind you, the clues were there: the giant Christmas tree and equally giant singing and dancing model Father Christmas at Crooklands on 24th November were a dead giveaway, and, if they weren't enough for the message to sink in, the sight of 20-odd santa hats gathered together at Langthwaite reservoir on 22nd December should have aroused my suspicions. I forgot my santa hat, but fortunately my chauffeurs Lurch and Morticia seem to have endless stocks of the things - unsurprisingly, as every clock in their house shows a different time, and it must always be Christmas in one room or another.

Final clue - Upperskirt had decided to play Jacob Marley instead of Ebeneezer Scrooge, and declared a free r*n - the ultimate sign of Christmasness! Sadly, hares FB & B, incensed at this seasonal display of wanton fiscal profligacy, decided to recoup the lost revenue by being parsimonious with the flour and setting a checkless trail.

And what a trail - vast tracts of squelchiness punctuated by insurmountable stiles which appeared to be in a permanent state of spatial flux, and reconfigured themselves whenever they came into contact with a foot. I have settled comfortably into my role as the new Highway (PBUH), and required the services of Morticia on a couple of occasions to hoist my sorry carcass over these wooden monstrosities.

Baldbrick decided to enter into the spirit of the festering season by augmenting the sound of his horn with jingling bells on his hat; fix a pair of cymbals between his knees and a drum on his back, you'd have a complete one man band, and not a very good one at that.

Back to Marybank for a slap-up dose of Jacob's Joinery, graciously hosted by our amiable, affable hares, Bubbles and Forever Blowing, washed down with alcohol-a-gogo, again provided F.O.C. by Christmas Fairy Upperskirt and Beermeister Baldbrick. A splendid time was had by all!

The countdown to the next religious festival is now officially underway, and please take note that the co-op have now got in their stocks of Easter Eggs, so get down there without delay! Wouldn't want you to miss out. Ho ho ho.