I’ve just come back from a walk around the village – Himself dragged me into the pub for a warming drink. OK, maybe dragged isn’t quite the right word – it’s blowing a gale here at the moment and I may have offered a little encouragement in the matter.

I was on the look out for an interested photo and something I’d seen earlier in the day had caught my eye – it didn’t turn out as I’d hoped, so I can show you. It looks like a lot of glow worms have overdosed on the sherry. Very disappointing - not how I'd imagine it would turn out.





A certain group of people are having a little Christmas competition – I’ll mention no names, if you know me it won’t take a master mind to work out who they are.

One has stated it’s boring – and declined to take part. Yes, yes, we all know the real reason why – but I’m humouring her, Mrs Scourge that she is. And I did spell that correctly, it was a play on words. It’s amazing how safe you feel to say these sorts of things when she’s not around. She doesn’t read blogs, can’t see the point of them. I can and don’t I have some fun.

Another person went for the whinging sympathy vote – it’s a new camera, and she doesn’t know how to use all the buttons. Yes, you’re quite correct – got her absolutely no where. The cheating little madam is always trying it on – no way were we falling for that one, we know her too well.

And last but not least, after speaking to the third person today, he quite smugly told me he’d already got his picture sorted. I soon put him straight. What happen to the other three pictures that are required? Two for the artistic category and two for the funny category. Didn’t he want to win? He’s probably the most competitive out of the lot of us.

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In fact, I’m amazed at how competitive I’ve become – I never used to be. It must be something to do with the people I’m now mixing with – bad influence. I particularly noticed it over the Christmas period when I was playing scrabble with the friend and her son that I mentioned in my pervious blog. I won the first two games. Since I’ve been writing my spelling has improved – yes, it has. During the third game I couldn’t help but notice that their ability to add the scores up had deteriorated. But strangely enough – it only happened during my go. It didn’t seem to affect their scores. I had that funny feeling you get when you’re not quite sure it‘s happening. If we’d been messing about I wouldn’t have though anything of it – but we weren’t. In fact they were really serious, very serious in fact. I was amused by it to start with – they’re 51 and 29, I thought it was funny. When I pointed it out – they insisted it was a mistake. In fact they got quite shirty. Everything was OK for the next couple of rounds and then it started again. This time I let it go – if it meant that much to them, so be it. Or at least I thought so until the end of the game and they made the point of saying that the winning score was much better than the two previous games.

Now, I’m not against cheating. In fact I’ll go one step more and openly admit that I’m not above it. The difference being that everyone is aware of it – it’s just a bit of fun. After spending two days looking after this pair and I do mean looking after, they wanted for nothing - I hadn't expected them to behave like that. All I needed was a hearth to sit by and some cinders, I’d have been well at home.

I was a little put out. Now my manager has a saying – don’t get mad, get even. So I suggested we did our own scoring on the last game and beat the pair of them fair and square by over 100 points. OK, at the end I may have uttered a few childish words – something like: I’m the winner, I’m the winner. Losers. Losers.

Sometimes you have to let people know, that no matter how nice you are – you’re not going to be walked over.