I of course completely failed to get any pictures of myself at the party, so this shot of me and Clara comes courtesy of Ray, or rather the relative upon whom his camera was thrust while he was tripping the light fantastic. This photo was taken during the first dance. I’d decided to be careful, so as not to completely break myself into pieces and so just took part in the first set. Which was quite enough. Suzy summoned me onto the dancefloor as couples gathered and then promptly dumped me for the apparently better offer of Clara’s father. It became clear a couple of steps in that a threesome with Lauren and Helen wasn’t going to work and I was in need of a partner of my own, so Clara gallantly stepped in and we whirled around together.

From then on I mostly watched the fun from behind my camera, though I don’t pretend to have taken any masterpieces on this evening. People moving really fast in a dark room plus an aversion to using flash doesn’t really add up to crisp photos. I need to go to more parties where people sit still in brightly-lit rooms.

Or at least do the sitting still part. When not dancing we took a break in the next room and discussed important matters such as the business plan for Dave’s Awesome Cakes, Dave’s great idea, which would stand next to Helen’s funeral home. And they’d be affiliated with each other and would offer Wake Cakes.

Spot the ballroom dancer. And her extended pinky. Suzy danced all but one set that night and consequently could barely move when she and I met up the next night to plan our holiday for this year. (Booked!)

There was a good range of splashes of tartan that night: sashes, shirts, trousers, skirts and hats. Even a pair of tartan-framed glasses appeared.

This is Ray’s authentic kiltage and sockage on display. The tartan is that of Cornwall, Ray’s home county. I’m used to red stripes in things like flags symbolising the blood shed for independence or something, but the red stripe here is for the beak and legs of the national bird, the chough. How peaceful.

Carrot cake for birthday cake? Pfft, what craziness is this? In my book if it makes any contribution towards your five a day, it’s not cake.

One of the best bits of the evening was seeing those who had been reluctant to dance (Dave. Steve.) finally out on the dancefloor having a whale of a time, smiling, laughing and dosey-doe-ing. Especially when the latter move got a bit fraught when going across the diagonal.

The dances were taught and led by caller Mike, who was great fun. I approve of the idea of a caller, which means you only have to sort of remember what you’re doing. Forgetting isn’t the disaster it could be in say, the National Ballet, as he’s right there with the next instruction.

When not telling us what to do Mike would join the band on percussion. I rather naïvely hadn’t even expected live music, so turning up to the venue and finding a live band was great. Family friend and bandleader Rob played the fiddle, guitar and mandolin and Paul played Northumbrian pipes and the melodion.

One of the last dances was Lady Godiva, of which I have already posted video footage. The moment I’d turned my video camera on, the battery symbol was flashing red at me, so I’m glad it made it through to the end and got Lauren and Dave at the end of the line. And that reminds me: I should charge the battery.

This was the first and last time Steve stood to his full height during the Stripping the Willow dance. He soon learned that it was safer to bend down and not be a nuisance if he didn’t want to be decapitated when the dance got up to speed!

It was a fine evening and one that I think suited Suzy down to the ground – music, dancing and flailing about and everyone having a great time.

Last day, folks! It’s been another great week and thank you all for playing along. My Day 7 contribution is a joint John/Sarah effort, as John’s is today. John’s holding the camera and you’ll see me with its remote, which is many times the size of the one for my D80, crouching by the girls’ high chairs after dinner, talking to my nieces. Meanwhile Anya bites me with her two very sharp teeth and her sister and father do nothing to help me.

Today was day 3 of Christmas for us, with a visit from John, Sam and the babies. We all had a lot of fun and we’ve sent them home again with a variety of new noisy, shiny toys. Tomorrow I’m looking forward to doing very little and not wearing any degree of posh clothes. I might still wear my dangly snowman earrings though.

We are at my aunt and uncle’s today for Boxing Day … and of course, being my cousin, Russ is here too. The outside tree is beautifully covered in lights and so I went out to admire them and take my picture. Not long after I returned indoors, Dad noticed that a swathe of lights in the middle had gone out, but I was able to prove with my photos that they’d been fine when I’d left them! Uncle Terry soon fixed them though (and trod on the cat, but that wasn’t planned), so all is right with the world again. Phew. Even if Russ is currently heckling me for writing such a long description. But he’s wearing silly Homer Simpson slippers, so his words don’t hold much authority right now. If ever. Damn boy.

Suzy and I celebrated Christmas Eve with Chinese takeaway tonight. The plan was to watch Love Actually too, but it turned out, I suppose unsurprisingly, that we can fill an evening with talking quite easily, so the DVD stayed in my bag.

The Chinese food was delicious and we polished off a bottle of delightful pink fizz too. We’re both sensing the possibility of a new tradition …

We decided to “be European” and exchange gifts tonight – Suzy gave me a beautiful pin for a buttonless cardigan I bought during our recent pillage of H&M, as well as an always welcome chocolate orange.

Above she’s studying the posh chocolates I gave her and on her lap is the upholstery book that accompanied them. See that stool under the mantelpiece? Suzy reupholstered that herself and now it stands there waiting to be put to use when Suzy hosts Christmas for her family tomorrow.

A few more snapshots from the evening …

This takeaway place makes the best chicken satay ever and is a large proportion of the reason I suggested having Chinese takeaway. I’m glad to say that I was not disappointed and got thoroughly covered in bits of peanut and satay sauce, which I licked up in a most unladylike manner.

Yes, boys and girls, you too could have a hot pink Christmas tree with its own falling polystyrene snow. I’m guessing this isn’t really intended for households with babies or kittens … or taste.

Well, I guess it’s not bad going if it took me until halfway through the month of posting every day before I had a half past eleven “oh crap, I’ve not blogged anything yet” run-on sentence moment. I’ve been stuck in front of the computer all day, doing various things and then warring with some HTML late into the evening. I’ve not exactly won, but I’ve won enough. And that’ll do me.

That photo up there isn’t an optical illusion, the bulb really is the size of a fist. This was my birthday present from H&H and I’ve been instructed that it needs very little water, which somehow seems more of a challenge than needing to flood something. I can’t help feeling that there’s a very fine line between very little water and too little water. Anyway, I have no idea what the bulb is, so I hope I get the watering right and have the chance to find out. Well, whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s not edelweiss.

Today is not only birthday time for Ray and Nina, but also birthday part deux for me with a visit to John, Sam and the little bundles of squidge – who are really not so little any more, but are still very squidgy.

After a morning spent in my dressing gown (which I never do), I grabbed my things for us all to go and meet John and Sam at a pub for lunch. The shoulder bag I bought for the Salzburg trip has really proved useful, as now I can carry laptop and/or camera wherever I want without needing a rucksack. There’s just an image difference between a bag and a sack that pleases me.

In the month since I’d seen Lily (above) and Anya (below) in person they’ve both grown two bottom teeth each, which they might show you with a smile, but if you try and show someone else by pulling down their bottom lip they will simply cover their teeth with a poked-out tongue instead.

I had a bacon cheeseburger at the pub, with nice chips and coleslaw, Sam had turkey from the carvery, John a blue cheese burger, Dad gammon and eggs and Mum had salmon. While we ate, Anya and Lily variously chewed their plastic rings, rattly zebra and fabric books. Then when they were home again, the girls had the somewhat more calorific option of mashed up potato, sweet potato and broccoli – with broccoli florets as finger food to follow. I admired the gusto with which they chewed the heads off the broccoli (or just went the whole hog and swallowed the stalk too) and it turns out that the tiny flower heads that make up the florets are great for spreading around the fancy new high chairs as well as of course your own face, much to the amusement of your audience.

What a long day. It started early in Salzburg, with my boy and a surprise cake, sparkling candle and singing and ended in England with my girls and more surprise cake, celebratory fire and singing. In between came a lot of talking in German, a flight home, my traditional failure to unpack properly, if at all, the opening of lovely presents, birthday phone calls, a much-needed shower, way too much food and a lot of talking into the night. Now I must to bed and maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow with some sort of idea of what day it is, what time it is and where I am – all questions which I have been unable to answer immediately for myself at some point over the last few days.