Merry Christmas, Mom.

Dear Mom. Sorry you had to miss Christmas in South Africa this year; though, as a Christmas goes, it was less of an affair than usual. No extended "Lynch" clan, no Keir or Liam getting irritated at all and sundry and no excessive drinking. Even though we bought Dad a bottle of Bushmills. There was, however, plenty of fruitcake. Gran outdid herself this year, and mine is still going strong; after every bite, I need to retreat and regroup before I attempt another one. Still, I know it's not cake, or extended clan, grumpy sons or booze you were missing this festive season. So here's Brigid.

She got quite a pile of presents this year... I would have been jealous, had I not also been bitten by the bug and splurged on her as well. I was even off on Christmas Eve, hunting out a guitar she had spotted during previous shopping trips (and other assorted stocking fillers.) The umbrella was from the neighbour, and the wading pool from Dad. Clearly her tolerance of cold is better than mine; while she is enjoying paddling around on what is a fairly cloudy day, I WAS NOT (as you no doubt will see from the photos Dad took, especially when she jumped on my back in an attempt to push me under.) Whether I was cold or not, I can only imagine it's warmer than the weather in Oxford, clear skies or no. Certainly better for swimming than London was in November.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed your Christmas regardless. Hope you get to spend Christmas with the family next year, and hope that Keir and the latest Mrs Lynch (as Dad tells me she is now being officially seen) is up here as well. I know this year, you were certainly missed by the two Lynch females in evidence on the left... and your grumpy son behind the camera. Much love, and hope to see you soon in the New Year, Liam.

Later.