So we did get snow after all. Not quite enough for a snowman, but enough for my daughter to drop a snowball down the back of my neck. Brrr. And I’ve survived the week without forgetting anything. I think. Mind you, there’s probably still time. Only three more days until Christmas eve (my daughter’s keeping the count-down) and then, if they’re REALLY well behaved, Father Christmas might pay us a visit. I can remember one year when he didn’t come. Not to Mato Grosso anyway – at least, not to our house. Some bugger pinched his sack, if I remember. Someone who worked for baggage handling in the airport. It was still fun, though. We went to the farm to buy meat – the kind that’s still alive – and spent the day chasing headless chickens around the house. Oh yeah, and watching a drunk ex-clown slaughter a pig is … well, it’s one of those memories I’ll always cherish.