And finally I've got the taste of brussels sprouts out of my mouth..

Well we managed to get through another one, didn't we?

As Ellen is away visiting her folks, I'm cat sitting and paying a brief visit to my bachelor sleeping quarters. It's cold and austere here, so I don't plan staying for long. After tapping out these thoughts I'm straight back to the creature comforts chez Reed. Heat, comfortable furniture, Season 3 'How I Met Your Mother', all one could possibly require.

December has seen young Ella make her entry into the world on the 5th. All I needed to know about childbirth was illustrated to me watching my sister sit down on the couch after a 36 hour labour. Her calm confident sureity is gone, but I guess several weeks of no sleep will do that to you. All is not lost though, I hear it does get easier. Judging by my Astrid's one thousand yard stare over turkey and stuffing, the smoother times cannot come soon enough.

Two anecdotes that have been bouncing round my mind the last week: Firstly, you've finally reached the heady peaks of adult responsibility when you write THREE names in your Christmas cards instead of two or one. In 2009, Xander's spidery script made its debut in my festive greetings which has been a buzz .For the little ones it seems getting a signature on target is good enough to begin with, his school buddies' write their names in every conceivable location inside their cards. Xander meanwhile has tamed his script to a satisfying bottom right position under the 'Merry Xmas' legend inside.

Secondly, I've developed an overnight love for the Midsomer Murders. I cannot get enough of middle class people scheming amongst themselves whilst some do-gooder tries to solve a mystery. The fly on the wall nature of this kind of thing is great. Must be turning into a wannabe voyeur or something. Murder She Wrote? Columbo? Morse? Inspector Wexford? Bring it on!