It's not going to be my Christmas, I can see. I went to the allotment this
morning, into the shed, got my gloves out to protect my poor little hands
from the thorns on the raspberry canes I was clearing, put a hand in and
then took it out a damn sight quicker when I felt the pain. Well, how was I
to know a wasp was overwintering in the index finger of my glove?

He paid the price, but that doesn't make my finger hurt any less. It's
Christmas eve and I've been stung by a wopse. Bah, humbug.

Anyway, happy blooming Christmas to you one and all.

Steve