Merry Christmas everyone!

It's Christmas!  Some of you, like me, probably read that in a Noddy Holder from Slade voice, and if you didn't please re-read and give it a go.

Apparently it's a scientific fact (in truth, I'm not sure exactly how much science was involved) that there are some phrases you just can't read without saying them as a song lyric, or alternatively if you utter them, it will encourage somebody else to spontaneously burst into song.

Not convinced?  OK, try this one - 'my name is'.  There's going to be some of you saying that in the same style as Eminem.  'It wasn't me' will prompt some of you to remember the song by Shaggy, and 'I just can't get enough' will spark a Depeche Mode tribute.

At primary school one of my teachers was called Mrs Robinson, and every time her name was mentioned at home my Dad would sing 'and here's to you Mrs Robinson' from the Simon & Garfunkel song.

A discarded Frozen child's lunchbox was found by a dog walker near where I live, and he helpfully posted a picture of it on our local Facebook group page trying to find its owner.

After several unsuccessful attempts and repeated questions as to who owned it, somebody replied with the simple three word phrase 'Let it go', which caused much amusement.  For those uninitiated in the world of Frozen (and I believe there are still some although I'm not quite sure how), that's the theme song magnificently warbled by Idina Menzel.

Nobody can utter 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' without thinking of Kelly Clarkson's uplifting anthem.  If anyone says 'the final countdown' I'm immediately transported back to the eighties to soft-rock out with my air guitar, Europe and Joey Tempest's magnificent perm.

All of which leads me to say Merry Christmas everyone, channelling my inner Shakin' Stevens and sporting my best festive jumper and stonewashed jeans, and then sing Happy New Year to you all in an ABBA style.

Duxford and Al Murray

It seems a distant memory now, but we went to Duxford for the first time in the October half term.  We were going to go before but the American museum was shut and being refurbished so we waited until it re-opened.

It was certainly worth the wait - this was the first part we visited when we got there one Sunday morning at 10am, using the theme park rule of visiting the areas furthest away and then working your way back towards the car park - it works for us, anyway.

From the outside I thought it resembled a larger version of the Teletubby house, as the entrance area nestles into the surrounding bank.  But it's certainly an amazing sight when you walk through the doors and come almost nose-to-nose with a B-52.

That's when we saw Al Murray.  Yes, standing to one side chatting to a member of staff was the Pub Landlord.  I spotted him first, and said to husband and daughter, quietly, 'That's that bloke off the telly!  Pub Landlord!', which caused husband to spin round and look straight at him, make eye contact, and then act embarrassed as British people tend to do in that sort of situation.

We didn't interrupt him, just smiled and walked on by, with daughter asking me when we were out of earshot 'Who is he, is he famous?'  She's a Harry Hill fan, and I said he was in Harry Hill's programmes and I thought in the Harry Hill Movie.

A bit later on my daughter and I were in the Ladies' loos, and talking from cubicle to cubicle as women tend to do if no-one else is there. 

She said to me 'Ah, I think I remember him, was he the man in the dress in the nuclear power plant?'

We emerged from our cubicles to find a woman washing her hands, staring at us in the mirror like we were very odd. 

We've since discovered that Al Murray wasn't in the Harry Hill Movie, and that actor was Jim Broadbent, so she will probably never work out what we were talking about!

Ever-decreasing chocolates

Things aren't what they used to be - how often did you hear that growing up?  Well, it turns out it's true, especially if we're talking about chocolates.

We've put up with quite a lot in 2016 already, but this may be the final straw.  It's nearly Christmas and the large chocolate companies are messing with our chocs!

It's been done quite sneakily and gradually - I bet there were hoping we wouldn't notice because of Brexit and Trump etc.  But Watchdog have highlighted it, and it's really quite shocking.

I'd suspected it for a while - I'm fairly sure that when I was a child a Wagon Wheel was the size of my head.  OK, if not my head, it still seemed pretty large.  Now it's not even the size of the palm of my hand.

That Christmas favourite, the Terry's chocolate orange, used to have the chocolate segments so tightly packed together we would have to smash it repeatedly against our fireplace to separate them, and then there was the solid stalk of chocolate left in the middle as an additional treat once the segments had been consumed, remember that?

Well, no more.  The segments are quite frankly puny, there's no centre stalk of pure orangey chocolate goodness and it's reduced in size by 10% too - that's two whole pieces less.

And do you remember the huge tins of Quality Street you used to get for Christmas as a kid?  The seemingly bottomless box of brightly wrapped chocs and toffees that you'd be wading through until well into the New Year?

Not any more folks - you'll be lucky to make them last until Boxing Day.  Also the Toffee Deluxe has been replaced with a Honeycomb Crunch - how was this allowed to happen?

Now there's gaping valleys between Toblerone's mountains, and a bag of Maltesers has shrunk by 15% - that's 10 Maltesers per bag lost, never to be seen again.

Enough is enough - it's time to take a stand, and woe betide the chocolate company that messes with the Purple Ones or the Strawberry Cremes and Dreams!

Ssshhh! I'm watching the play, or film etc...

I have to say I agree with Imelda Staunton's call for a ban on eating and drinking in theatres during performances.

After all, there's usually an interval, which is the ideal time to seek refreshments if required, but I do appreciate that this is also the occasion when many women spend the entire time queuing for the loo (or is that just me?)

It appears to be a widespread problem, and not just with noisy snacks either.  One actor said he'd seen a person in the front row of a theatre in which he was performing produce a full fish supper, complete with mushy peas, which was then consumed with gusto during the play.  This did distract him, particularly as the smell of the food wafted towards the stage.

This won't be popular, but I would also like to see noisy junk food banned in cinemas.  I wouldn't ban popcorn, although I did nearly choke on a kernel once while watching a film but did it so quietly that husband didn't even realise until I informed him afterwards.

But is there anything worse when watching a film than having a critical moment in the plot ruined by the ear-shatteringly loud rustling of a crisp packet, family size Minstrels bag or similar?  Or the slurp of the end of the slushy cup just to make sure it's empty?

Please don't get me started on people who use their phones during performances either!

I went to watch Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them on the day it was released - very good, highly recommended, bit dark in places so not appropriate for very young children - and lo and behold, at several times during the film there was the glow of a mobile.  Not just a quick glance to check the time or to see if there'd been an emergency either, people were just sitting there staring at their screens.

Can't we please just engage in one activity and spend a couple of hours watching a play or film without eating, drinking or looking at our phones?

'Distraction' burglars take much more than property

People who prey on the elderly and vulnerable really are despicable.

So-called 'distraction' burglars who trick elderly people into letting them into their homes by pretending to be from utility companies for example, before searching the house and then stealing whatever they can get their hands on, they take much more than just property.

They often shatter the older person's confidence and trust, they make them feel vulnerable in their own homes, and they cause a great deal of worry and stress for them, their family and friends.

There has been a spate of such incidents recently in Northamptonshire, so the Police have re-issued some helpful advice reminding people what to do with unexpected callers: www.northants.police.uk/news/2016-11-10/residents-warned-not-open-door-unexpected-callers

Here are the key points:

·        Don't feel pressured into opening the door - if you're not sure, don't open it. 

·        Make sure you can see who is at the door before you answer it - use a spy-hole or talk to them through a nearby window. 

·        You can set up passwords with your utility companies, and genuine callers will need to recite this password to you. 

·        Don't use telephone numbers on ID cards callers might produce - if the person isn't genuine, then the telephone number won't be either.  Get the telephone numbers from the phone directory, save them into your mobile phone or make a list of your important numbers and keep it near the phone. 

·        If someone knocks on your door saying they are the Police, call 101 and check the identity with the Police control room.  In an emergency call 999. 

·        Look out for those who are vulnerable within your family or neighbourhood and please share this information.

In Northamptonshire, agencies have come together to form the Doorstep crime Action Network (DAN).  If you have any concerns that doorstep rogue traders or distraction burglars are operating in your community please call the dedicated doorstep crime hotline on 0345 23 07 702.

Theme-park face

I have a theme-park face.  That is, a face I seem to pull on certain so-called thrill rides at theme parks.

I only discovered this after I'd had my photo taken several times on these various attractions, and when viewing the results on the screens in the little booths, I realised I was pulling the same face in each.

I'll try to describe it - it's a rictus grin, I look like I'm trying to smile, but my teeth are gritted and you can see in my eyes that I'm actually terrified, but I'm putting a brave face on it.

Well, that's the face I've been wearing for a good part of 2016.

This year's rollercoaster ride shows no signs of slowing down.  In fact, it's speeding up, the highs and lows are getting greater, and now my knuckles have turned white from gripping onto the safety bar and my jaw is aching.

Way back in April, when the prospect of a Trump Presidency seemed like a very distant possibility, I wrote about an article I'd read with the terrifying headline "A Trump Presidency rated among the top ten global risks".  The Economist Intelligence Unit reckoned that Donald having the keys to the White House was riskier than Britain leaving the European Union.

I remember listening to Jeremy Vine on Radio2 while I was in the dental hygienist's chair about a month ago, and he was saying that he didn't think Trump would be elected, but then he didn't think Britain would leave the EU either.  And it was at that point I thought to myself, 'What if Hillary doesn't win?'

Why didn't people vote for Mrs Clinton - would it be like Cherie Blair standing for Prime Minister here, are the Clintons really that unpopular in the USA?

Much like after the EU referendum, we are at the stage where we have to accept the result and work with what we have.  Has anybody got a paddle?

Dedicated followers of slipper fashion

Do you ever look at the various fashions highlighted in magazines or in the Sunday supplements and think 'There's no way I'd wear that, people would laugh.'

I only ask because I was flicking through the Sunday paper and there was a feature about the new, latest, most fashionable footwear as seen on the tootsies of such trendsetters as Alexa Chung, one of the Kardashians and that chap who was the Night Manager and who may or may not be the next James Bond, Tom Hiddleston.

They were slippers.  OK, mules, backless slip on shoes - a nightmare for hammer toes I imagine - and apparently the latest 'thing' in which to be seen.

Now, I can't speak for you of course, but I would not be seen outside the confines of my own home in my slippers.

Having said that, my slippers are actually quite 'on-trend' I believe - they are Moshulu ballet pumps in a fetching leopard print.  I used to call them my Bet Lynch slippers, but have re-named them after Theresa May and her penchant for a similarly patterned kitten-heel shoe; I don't think she'll be offended.

But other than running to the washing line if it suddenly starts raining, or popping to the bins armed with my recycling, they don't see the outside world.

I wouldn't even dream of heading out into the street to fetch-in the wheelie bin on collection day wearing them.  In fact, if I see somebody outdoors wearing slippers I assume they've had an in-grown toenail removed or a bunion op and can't wear proper shoes.

Which leads me to wonder, what fashion PR genius persuaded a bunch of celebrities that to be seen out in public wearing what is in effect a leather, fur-lined slipper is the height of sophistication?

Now I've said this, I expect I'll be seeing these shoes, or high-street copies of them, everywhere, and I won't know whether people are keeping up with fashion or simply nursing a painful foot injury!