This is possibly, almost certainly, my last blog post before Christmas. I’m about to set off on one of my Granny Progresses, though I’m a lot cheaper to keep than Queen Bess was. No retainers and horses that need feeding, no truculent demands for entertainment. I may not arrive with my own bed and carpenters to assemble it but I do bring my own hot water bottle.

Christmas gift-wise I have now entered calm waters. The things that excite my grandchildren are a (mainly) high tech, shrink-wrapped mystery to me so I’m excused the horror of trudging round toy shops. I know unicorns are having a big moment but I can pretend not to have noticed. Instead, it is now my pleasure to take my grandchildren to the theatre. They are all old enough to wait for the interval to go to the toilet and one of them is even old enough to buy me an intermission G&T if I so desired.      

What do we have lined up? Nellie Limelight and the Oysters of Time, Fiddler on the Roof, Philip Pullman’s Grimm Tales and Aladdin  –  with spectacular scenery, stunning special effects and hilarious slapstick comedy (it says here).  Now I live alone I never go to the theatre. Funny that. I love solo trips to the cinema and I don’t mind going to concerts alone, but the theatre? No.  So how lucky am I to have young en suite relatives as companions for my December theatre splurge.

Merry Christmas, dear reader. I know you’re out there.