What evil lurks in the heart of minced meat?

I feel I should have mentioned Christmas or said something about the tree. I had a tree.

Well, have. It's not down yet. The flat's a mess, actually. There was company over and I haven't had time to clean up since. It was a good holiday in all, and Boxing Day especially. Although I watched much less football than usual -- I know, and it's a sin, really and truly -- I still had the time to see the Toffees take away a point. Which should have been three, and Andy Johnson can forget about that love poem I'd begun composing anyway. I've become distracted.

For one thing, I'm learning to cook -- well, to cook more. It's not that I didn't already understand the basics. I can boil rice and noodles, for example; but it's really been a while for a few things.

It's very distracting, though, and I find myself taking time at work to learn new recipes. Harder to concentrate, I guess, is what it is. I've already lost a shirt to my latest learning endeavour -- and who really knows what sacrifices are still ahead. It's hard to know whether I ought to be excited or terrified.