Boxing Day is supposed to be a time for recovering from the excesses of the previous day. At Lunchtime today, indeed only a few minutes ago I was spreadeagled on the roof of the church behind us praying (as strongly as is ever possible when you are on the roof of the church in an unauthorised manner) that the corrugated iron was actually fixed to something more solid underneath. It's alright readers, I was there for what might be considered semi-legitimate reasons. A neighbour received a pair of battling Apache Helicopters for Christmas and one had managed to escape from his back garden across the road, fly vertically up over his house and our house to land on said place of worship. He was most upset that I laughed when he came to the door to ask for assistance. My first solution was a long piece of string with a toy back hoe attached but on the second throw this caught in the guttering and I had to use our ladder to climb down into the Church grounds, and then climb up to the roof. In best SAS style I crawled up the sloping roof to the helicopter and retrieved it. I am injured but this was actually caused in the post-retrieval celebrations - I cut my finger on the foil of a chocolate coin.
All this and still a week off.
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