Another year, another series of disasters. Last year my children criticised this newsletter as being nothing more than a show-off catalogue of physical possessions and high achievement.

"It was cheesy", says Siobhan, "and poncy".

OK – this year you get the unvarnished truth.

Well, here goes.

1.     We wrote one car off, and nearly lost the other one against a central reservation.
2.     A garden strimmer broke one of the conservatory windows.
3.     The children’s bathroom leaked into the floor below.
4.     The pool liner sprung a series of leaks – several years after Kirsty pogoed in it with a sharp metal pole – and had to be replaced.
5.     A freak burst of lightning blew up the Satellite receiver.
6.     Liz bought an expensive antique chair with wicker seating – then she sat on it and went straight through.
7.     The first time it rained after the conservatory was finished it leaked all over my computers.
8.     Liz’s patent method of dog birth control failed spectacularly and as a result we had ten puppies, and two kittens - don't ask.
9.     Siobhan turned into a cross between Lauren Bacall and Kathy Burke.
10.     Jamie turned into Kevin.
11.     Alex turned into Sean Connery.
12.     Kirsty turned into a frog.
13.     Liz turned into a central reservation.
14.     Neil turned into a babe magnet (hah! – Ed).
15.     …er…that’s it.

Apart from that there were a number of things that didn’t happen to us:

Neil has shrunk to 5’ 11"

Liz has grown to 5’1"

Siobhan has grown to 5’ 10¾" (NOTE: Just less than Dad)

Jamie is shooting up, but we hid the needles. He’s grown too, he has reached 5’ 3"

Alex is still 4’ 8".

Alex had a makeover, it failed. So we did her room instead – she now has exposed beams right up to her gable end – Ooooh, Mrs!

Liz decided to paint a shade known as ‘Stately Home Poo’ all over the living room.

The building work referred to last year miraculously turned into a conservatory – half of it is an office, and half a, well, frankly, a conservatory.

[Sorry, I was cleaning the ‘t’ key]

Drums, flute, saxophone and piano noises still flood the house – now I know why Liz refused to let any of them learn the violin. It leads to domestic violins!

(That’s awful – Ed)

As for live music, not to mention the annual pilgrimage to Cropredy, during the year we went to see Eric Clapton, Del Amitri, Natalie Merchant, Neil Finn and Van Morrison.

(Hmphh - Ed).

Neil has been seeing more and more of Dublin; almost as much as he did of Hong Kong in 1994/5.

And as he explores the multifarious delightful eating and drinking that the City has to offer, Dublin gets to see more and more of Neil with each visit.

Movies of the year:

Of the ten puppies, nine lived, and we got stuck with two – they are called Inky (blessed with a black ink-spot on his leg) and Axel (an anagram of Alex – yes, we know it’s stupid).

Amber has since been ‘done’ so there will be no more puppies.

Then one day Neil came home and found that we had ‘rescued’ two kittens from what was promised to be ‘certain destruction’ – "so what", were his first comments.

Isn’t he gorgeous – OK, I lied about the comment!

We had a week in Crete in August The family swam and snorkelled and sunbathed and so on – and Neil read eight books in the shade making phone calls.

We hired a van and went on an expedition. Although the place you want to get to may be only six miles as the crow flies in Crete, you can never get there in any manner approaching a crow. It can take two hours to go six miles – by heart-stopping unmade tracks making hairpin bends round a mountain with a sheer drop on at least one side.

We spent a fascinating day at Knossos, the oldest inhabited City in Europe, where recently they had found an old Cliff Richard LP and the oldest flushing toilet on the planet. Actually, only one of these facts is true – ‘flushing toilets’ in Ancient Greece, I ask you!

We sat in the oldest theatre in Europe and walked down the oldest street in Europe – just like Thaxted really,

On another trip we were going through one village and a man standing by the mid-day drinkers outside the bar waved us down.

Thinking he might be an informally attired Policeman we stopped. He was not a Policeman – he was a drunk, Indian hitch-hiker going to Ierįpetra, as we were. So he jumped in next to Siobhan and we travelled on.

That was when we learned he was drunk and Indian, as he has papers which (he proudly and repeatedly showed us) meant he should be in England, and that obviously we had been sent by divine providence to take him there.

"You take me England…yes?".

He was very upset when he found out that we had flown, and not driven all the way.

When we reached Ierįpetra, although we weren’t intending to stop, we did as Siobhan was getting fairly nervous by now.

He wouldn’t say where he wanted to be dropped. Whenever we offered him a new landmark he simply said, "It’s OK - I stay with you".

So we found a spot and parked the car and made lots of leaving and parting actions and noises but he stuck like glue.

"I stay with you", he said.

Eventually we said that we had to go one way and that he should go another, and finally, eventually, he agreed.

"Fine strong handsome daughter", he said, pointing at Siobhan.

"Give me you address in England", he then said, "I come stay with you".

That’s all until next year – you know, I always end up with an annoying ½ inch gap to fill.