Perhaps it's a mark of how affected by the rhythms of medieval life I have become, but I've found this year that the real end of Christmas was marked for me by Twelfth Night rather than New Year's Day ...

or even the first Monday after New Year's Day, that grim date when apparently more people top themselves than on any other day of the year (though given the way 2009 is already going, perhaps we'd better reserve judgement on that particular statistic this time round).

Anyway, the tinsel has been packed away, the cards recycled, and things left to gather mould over the festive period - such as websites - are now in the process of beiing dusted down. It was a good Christmas this year, by and large - despite its highlight being the theft from the boot of my car of a MASSIVELY  expensive turkey - and on Christmas morning as well! Still, I have been able to console myself with the thought of how well fed and happy it must have left the Dickensian street urchins who were doubtless reponsible for nicking it - and how much joy it has brought into the lives of everyone to whom I have related the story...