This is a tale of the spirit of Christmas kindness and generosity.

We usually spend our Christmases alone. We walk on the beach and we eat all of the trimmings without the bird (we do usually have a perfectly fine “bird substitute” though not a bird substitute if you get my meaning.) OK sorry – to explain, as even I find that one a little difficult to grasp. We’re vegetarians and we don’t eat the UK’s traditional meal of turkey so I usually invent a little something. We don’t eat “fake chicken” or “fake turkey” in the place of the real stuff, I just make up something a little special as the centrepiece of our meal.

This year, I was not looking forward to a day without the beach. Archie is too poorly to get in the car let alone go on a long journey, get out of it and romp on the beach. So, for the first time in yonks, we thought we’d have to spend a day at home with only memories of Christmas Day with the surf between our toes and two fit dogs who could frolic in the waves for England.

Unexpectedly, we found ourselves invited into the home of our friends for Christmas dinner. This was a kind and generous act from people whose extended family already meant they’d have a home like Piccadilly Circus on Christmas Day. Still, we accepted with great joy and had a wonderful day.

After frolicking in the snow in the garden with Rosie, we left the dogs for the day and walked across the moor to our old village, spending it in the bosom of pals. We had a fabulous time, eating, drinking and making merry with Iain, Becky and their family, along with a quick trip up the lane for a Fizz Buck (yes, this is the right way round, Pete’s measures were lots more fizz than buck) with Santa 1 and Santa 2. I can’t begin to describe how lovely the day was or how grateful we were to be included into such a smashing family for the day.

What tickled my pink was the fact that this little chap and his even littler brother had done something rather wonderful for me. You see I’m scared of bangs. Yep – really scared. This extends from scary stuff like gunshots and fireworks through to such un-scary to the rest of the population items like yep, you’ve guessed it Christmas Crackers. Yes, it’s true, big, fierce Linda is scared witless by Christmas Crackers. I hate them. It’s the gunpowder you see. So, what did the boys do for me? They de-banged all of the crackers before I arrived.

I suspect there was a small ulterior motive when they threaded the bang strips from inside the crackers on Christmas Eve and popped them out of my earshot but nonetheless, who else on this planet would have had the forethought or the kindness within to do this for me. So, here he is, one of my two heroes, beaming at me from the Christmas dinner table, crackers all laid out…….

We walked home as the darkness was falling, replete and happy, scrunching along in the ice and what was left of the snow to spend a cosy Christmas evening with R&A, probably for the very last time.