So, you know, Thanksgiving. I’m in Essex until tomorrow afternoon doing the whole family thing, which I have to say is really pretty great. I’m mostly encouraged to sprawl in front of the fire and gorge myself on the parental library, which puts my own infestation of bookery completely to shame. And they keep feeding me in a more literal (as opposed to literary) sense - yesterday’s feast was of course an unprecedented experiment in just how many yams can be squashed into the human stomach, but even today there’s a pumpkin muffin or hummus and French bread sandwich waiting to attack every time I turn around. I’m not even going to discuss the samosas.

I’ll be back tomorrow evening, assuming I can be successfully wheeled onto the train and wedged into a seat without some sort of mashed potato explosion resulting. Think of the carnage.