There is an article cited on one of the CR lists today which includes the mice being minced after they have been variously wined and dined. Ew. Poor, poor meeces.
I looked at my diary this afternoon and worked out that I have twelve days between now and Christmas when I can be entirely sure of how many calories I'll be consuming and the nutritional value thereof. Twelve days when I won't have P staying with me, or won't be in London, or won't be otherwise socially obligated.
Where did this year go?