Festivities are finished.

And breathe. Ten nights of toasts (not in the wholegrain way), more board games than necessary and a damn quiz twice a day - still, I do know now the fastest selling auto biography of '13 and all of Prince George's middle names.  Gluttonous roasts with venison, pheasant, turkey and pork. One Faroese celebration and one English. A sparkly new toaster and hot pink lipstick. A glorious holiday of family festivities but my liver tells me it's ended just in time. 

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