“I’m a published author, don’t you know.”

“What, I just talk into this?”

The girls only get out once a year, so it’s a big occasion.

“What do you mean, you haven’t read my book?”

She doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

Eager to embrace all cultures.

Siobhån wowed the judges at the Rose of Tralee.

But was chucked out of the competition for being over-familiar with the menfolk.

It’s a pity because she had those poses down pat.

And she makes a devilish pot of tea.

Famous authors have to go to great lengths to avoid the paparazzi (and Mairead).

The stress gets to us all at times.

Hullo. My name is Paul. I love Widnesday. And pinguins. And Korea.*

Heh heh sorry Paul but you wanted a new post on the oul’ blog*..

*photos by Siobhán.

Girl! I wanna take you to a –

This is me doing a dirty protest in Ciara and Brad’s house. You should have seen the place when I was finished with it.

Then I was so wrecked I decided to go home for Christmas.

Shiny baubles.

Deirdre was playing at the Strauss Ball so she got dolled up.

Andy went out to get the paper the odd time.

Brendan was practicing for being a hostage.

Eamonn was effin’ starving.

Santa called over when all was delivered.

Tom’s neighbours’ house.

Not a travel center but a RAVE CENTER!

Back to the ‘Dalk then for the laugh.

We finally moved into our new fla’ but we haven’t much furniture.

I am currently at the mercy of Deirdre’s new and swish phone which can luckily talk to the Kenny’s mac, as me camera computer connector cable is in a feckin’ box somewhere. God be with the day when we can unpack.

Check out our first new decoration for our house.

Andy reverted to childhood this Christmas.

Thanks Deirdre for your succinct summary of my festive season.