Well our second year of Rag'n'Bone Trading is drawing to a close.
We sit huddled round a peat fire, preparing the candles for solstice and humming Lily Allen songs as I whittle small gifts for the children from pieces of objet trouve and sticks from the garden. Mrs Rine is folding small paper presents from the origami projects in old Rupert Annuals and painting them in bright colours - one can only imagine the excitement that will suffuse those kiddy's faces when they open these presents!
Our decorations comprise a wooden branch from the garden with strips of paper from the cross-cut shredding machine gaily draped over it to resemble snow. Real snow is forecast for this evening so an extra log for the fire may be the order of the day! We are having locally reared chipolatas tonight and have only a slight concern as to what "locally reared" actually means.
A hint of a frown dances over Mrs Rine's face as we start to think of those worse off than ourselves. Those poor investment bankers, with their meagre bonuses and pensions, and those MP's who have had the John Lewis Catalogue snatched from their grasp in a viscious and vindictive attack on their public spirit.
How lucky we are, that our life is now so simple and our carbon footprint is so frugal.
Mind you, we should have been in the Maldives if it wasn't for the frigging BA Cabin Stewards pulling out at the last moment.