Peaking in Banffshire

I have survived. We have Easy-jetted up north, and hidden our lighters and penknives in my metal spectacle case, and made it. We have stuffed our silly faces with everything under the sun, and drunk ourselves silly. Boy 15 drank all night with his aunt and parked a tiger on the white sofa and stepmother in law, who has been suspiciously texting like a teenager kept a tin lid on it, ish. Aunt 24, who lead Boy 15 into the drinking den,('You're brilliant Aunt 24,' 'No you're brilliant Boy 15') woke up in the dog bed in the scullery. Apparently she'd been waiting for the washing machine to finish so she could sneak the sofa cover back onto the sofa. I peaked after charading War and Peace (three words, first word - I had a fight with myself - third word, I put my head on the dining table and fell asleep - apparently they got it). And that was all in 6 inch killer heels £22 from Poo Look.

I have made a new best friend. Wonderful Irene, whose two beautiful teenage daughters were killed in an RTI in Buckie 18 months ago. She came for christmas supper with her son (13) and delightful friends Alan and Colin. Allegedly I fell asleep on Alan's lap after waking up at the table and deciding pudding wine was the thing, and he was wearing my mink. Irene and I agreed that we live from minute to minute, and we drank to that. Several times.

On top of all that I have climbed the Cullen Bin (1050ft)and walked along Cullen beach and picked up the sweetest piece of blue and white china which will be my lodestone for a while, until I lose it, or give it away.

It's been a great christmas. I have missed my own brothers and sisters, Mum and Dad, but this lot are pretty good too. Brilliant.