It's a cold, windy and rather wet night.
I am sat at the kitchen table after the marathon of Christmas Card writing.
A Sherlock Holmes mystery is playing on the radio.
There are four piles of cards in front of me
55 for stamp posting
60 for village delivery
10 or so for family
and an eclectic pile of 15 "miscellaneous" cards "to do"
Usually I absolutely adore the yearly tradition of card writing
This year it's been done... but my heart wasn't quite in it