As a rule I spend Christmas at home in Brisbane. But with just about every rule there are exceptions. One year we dined in the BBC staff canteen at lunch on Christmas Day. Another year, when I was living in London with a group of friends, we travelled to Scotland and I was in charge of cooking the turkey for the first time. As I recall, the night before I dreamt I stuffed the bird with my camera. Clearly the important business of Christmas catering played heavily on my mind. Since then I've been a happy little homebody. It's not as though I've broken my own rule this year - I just bent it a bit. Shenandoah,the beach house we are occupying, is only an hour from home which makes it perfect. Christmas is family time and here I can enjoy that. I can also enjoy that perfect combination of the beach with my fur family. That's just about as good as it gets. With no small children who are notorious Christmas day alarm clocks, I could have slept in. My furry children would have none of that. They ensured we hit the sand early which is just as well because then the storms blew in. And I went back to bed. Another of my favourite things. Clearly Santa decided I'd been a good girl this year and delivered me the Christmas present I wanted - Sandy Paws and sleep. Ho, ho, ho.