The big salsa night is here and I have decided to stay home. My singing voice is returning but dance energy is still lacking; best not to chance a relapse.

Midnight Mass was enjoyable as usual. The nave and side aisles were packed and the convivial atmosphere compensated for my strained voice and barely audible top E. I drove in the morning through blinding rain on the M1 and M25 and arrived at Lorna's at the same time as Lawrence, Sarah, Hannah and Thomas. There's great comfort in knowing of the existence of a once a year extended family; Eve arrived in the evening and Vora and Alison on Boxing Day. Vora's chauvinism towards Barbados rum as opposed to the inferior rough stuff from Jamaica was most amusing.

The tradition of a long Boxing Day walk across Two Tree Island, Hadleigh Fields and Belfairs Woods was suspended this year; that bloody cold made me feel too weak. A gentle stroll along the Old Town and cinder path with L and T was all I could manage. Shirley, Lorna's friend of thirty odd years, came to lunch the following day. For the first time ever a great log jam in family communication was loosened, and I was able, in the presence of Lorna and Tariq, to explain the miserable effects of our mad old mother's ridiculous ways without being straightway silenced. Shirley's suggestion that Mum may not have been all that bright, in addition to being an obsessive 'windup', helped break that particular taboo. At last it is permissible to dismiss Hazel Nelken as an all round disaster on the maternal front without risking condemnation as an unworldly brat. What a relief.

Called in at Colston en route home to find Olly slowly recovering from his cold and preparing to go to London to finalise his CD. Beyond a wreath on the front door there were barely any signs of Christmas at Bridget's house. On return home I felt compelled to add to my comments on Jonathan's strange pieces of work. I do not want to upset him, but he should know that his disdain of 'conventional' history probably stems from his not having read very much of it. He might even deign to read the draft of my book now. That way he would at last understand that I long ago reached the cul de sac confronting anyone who tries to return to some mythical lo -tech rural olden days. Jonathan's journey in that direction has been purely cerebral, presenting him with an ever open and gilded vista.

Have just now finished Sheehan's book. My revision of the Jesus chapter will refer to the myriad layers of Christology to be read in the New Testament, which layers have been clarified by Sheehan, but I will still focus principally on the unmistakeable 'End of Days' bits.

Late seasonal greetings continue to arrive; an e.mail from Vittore, a card from Francoise and a pic of the grandchildren from Franca. Lorna is right. Franca genuinely loves news about the extended family and asks about Marek and Sabina's wedding as well as Irina and Mauri. WIll begin serious 'Jesus' revision tomorrow.