I have only sufficiently recovered in the past few days to report on my New Year festivities up North that were progressing reasonably well until I was savaged in my own hand by some cat-thing that my hosts were keeping a secret from me until it launched its vicious attack.
That cat-bastard known as 'Fang'.
Now, I'm well known as a lover of cooked animals so what the heck was a-going on with that terrifying ball of fluff and needles I can't say.
Still, my hand has - finally and after much self-medicating with the Godsend that is Bailey's - finally returned to normalcy.
That's the only time I'll ever venture out on a New Year's Eve without chain-mail.
