I am not conscious of having photographed Rosie for my PAD for some considerable time and even though I do try not to fill my pages with shots of my precious baby girl, I decided that today I’d make an exception.

So, why today? Well, we’ve had a day at home alone. Me, Rosie and Archie have been here while DM has been out doing “secret stuff”. I am never far from panic when my man is off doing “secret stuff” because of my murky past but on this occasion, I’m pretty sure that I can read nice things for me into the “secret stuff”, coming, as it does, a few days before Icefest.

The thought that the “secret stuff” might be an assignation with a skinny blonde with pert breasts and a firm bottom has been shoved into a box, stacked away in the dusty, cobwebby back of my mind and labelled “do not even think it”.

Anyway, while I’ve been home alone, I’ve got on with pressie wrapping for the folks that have not already had their stuff sent by post, which basically means DMs family, who we’ll see over the next few days along with DM and the dogs. Yep – they’ve each got a treat. If you promise not to tell, I’ll share the secret…..shhhhhhhhh:

Rosie has got a tennis ball flinger – a simple gadget that hurls tennis balls far further and much faster than is possible by hand alone and Archie has a neoprene toy that floats so is suitable for playing chase in the sea with. Now, please eat your computer monitor as soon as you have read this.

Weirdly, we were so crap as to send the post things yesterday, on the very last day of posting and the parcels have arrived but the cards mostly have not!

I’ve made a huge vat of soup and when he arrived home, we had that with home-made pumpkin bread. In the meantime, I’ve done lots of dog-hugging and fretting over Milly – our very old hen who looks like she’s finally losing the will to live, poor old thing.

So, while Dad’s away, Rosie gets the prime spot on the sofa, head on a new cushion. I still find it shocking and at the same time extraordinarily fortunate that she was dumped in Battersea Dogs Home on a day when I happened to be there looking for a friend for Archie. From the moment I first held her in my arms as a ten-week old reject, she has been my baby and even though she’s a middle-aged woman in dog terms now, she’ll always be my baby.

Last year, I was decanting sloe gin, while this year, all I can think about is that we have a minute more of daylight tomorrow than we've had today!