H-o-u-s-e spells house

I somehow made it to the age of 34 without ever going through the rigmarole of buying a house in the UK - however I, just this week, popped my property cherry. This explains why there have been no blog postings recently and also explains why my planned week-long holiday of watching the Sopranos and catching up on some reading never really materialised.

So, barring any legal or financial problems or people generally messing us about, we should be moving to the charming market town of Chesham in Buckinghamshire sometime before Christmas. We won't be able to afford a Christmas tree after all that, so I will be 'doing a Homer' and driving out to the forest to chop down a mighty specimen. In my mind, at least. In practice I'll buy a 2ft high plastic one which plays "Jingle Bell Rock" whenever you walk past it. That is what Christmas is all about.