Remembering the 'berra

Now that I'm back in the big smoke once again, I'd like to share some of my favourite holiday memories from my trip to the 'berra. One thing that's always troubled me is the decision to celeberate St Patrick's Day just once a year. So I took matters into my own hands, dressed in my finest leprechaun outfit and cut loose.

The manny helped me channel my inner Michael Flatley, although my knees proved oddly inflexible.

But after a couple of pints I'd gotten over that problem and threw myself into the celebrations.

After a suitable recovery period I was able to get on with the rest of my adventures in the berra, including breakfast cooked - and devoured - by my favourite domestic goddess, the scrumptious Romy,

serene picnics

and the always necessary French lessons. I find that one loses one's language skills so quickly without frequent practice.

Stay tuned for an update on life in Undercliffe now that we've settled in.