Sprouts? I don't do sprouts.

We're all very busy in the village at present. Tonight was carol-singing round our village Christmas tree. Carol sheets, silver band, frosty fingers and toasty toes, mulled wine and mince pies in the local pub afterwards - what could be better? We're very proud of our tree this year, adjacent villages have only white or blue lights, but ours are multi-coloured and flashing. Not perhaps in the best possible taste, but cheerful and we love them.

The easterly wind is bringing many complaints in the queue at the village shop in the mornings. "Cuts through you," "like a knife" and other such comments were exchanged as we all waited to pay for our morning papers. As usual I had left Amy, my Newfoundland dog, outside the shop. Not tied up - that's beneath her dignity, she prefers to be able to meet and greet all the shoppers on their way in and out. She loves this weather, her coat is so thick and fuzzy. The puppy isn't quite so certain, after all this is his first winter and he thinks he preferred the long days of summer spent foraging in the wilderness at the end of the garden.

Amy may love the winter weather, and she adores Christmas, but is not so keen on some aspects of the festivities. The reindeer antlers sent by my daughter were regarded with disdain, as were the brussels sprouts she was offered last year. That image inspired my Christmas cards this year, and all my friends and neighbours have been delighted to recognise her ladyship in full-on snooty mode! I hope you like it too.