Apologies, nothing very Christmassy about this photo, Portugal tends to be a little short of the  snow covered  red, red robin bob, bob, bobbin’ along. This is the coastline a few miles north of us (about 5) and is the western most point of the European mainland. Further west than Cork indeed, and further west than all but the last few miles of the Dingle peninsula. That makes us residents of the most western city in Europe I believe.
As I say, nothing much very Christmas about it, just where we’ll be this afternoon for a little walk, between the cholesterol laden fry-up and the turkey with trimmings.
As we know, the celebration today is "for the children" and indeed this household is running on grandchild time. Quite whether this will still be true after she has mastered the electric guitar and drum set she received this morning  I am not sure. Dependent upon how quickly she gets over the power chords stage with attendant drum solo (Innagaddadavida appears to be mere moments away) we might start running on quiet time, even running away time.
There, I’ve managed it, a moment of curmudgeondom on even this, the happiest of days.

Merry Christmas, one and all.