You know, the job of Virtual Harbour Master of a rock and lighthouse is a tough call, pretty stressful at the best of times, whilst today in Cornwall has been a nightmare, with gale force winds, massive seas, overflowing rivers, flooded roads and vehicle accidents everywhere. So it is with a huge feeling of pleasure that the Honourable (or Otherwise) VHM is delighted to welcome those who have so bravely battered their way across the oceans of the world. Among today's arrivals have been the amazing Albert and his newly acquired badger (Brogh in Cornish, in answer to your question Albert, pronounced with a gutteral 'gh' in the throat) and the lovely Lady Lorna! After his shenagans pretending to be Bond 007 (yes, skimming over my thinning locks with motors whining and propellers whizzing frighteningly close to my greying beard really DID get my knickers in a twist Albert) the VHM was delighted to note the skill with which the Zodiac was docked into a tiny niche in the rocks, where the Cornish / American Brogh has already made friends with the local seals (Selyow). Meanwhile, those who have lingered, or who have decided to divert to the delights Christmas lights of Mousehole had better hurry, because not only has the lovely Lady Lorna bagged the very best room, but she is well on the way to claiming the remainder of the lighthouse as her own personal SUITE. Meanwhile, the musicians are gathering and starting to claim their 'free pints' of Cornish ale at the bar, whilst the Holman Climax Choir have already managed to get across by zip wire from Godrevy Point on the mainland, and are currently sheltering behind the lighthouse wall because there is so much noise from the howling winds and crashing waves that their fervent knocking on the lighthouse door just can't be heard inside the lighthouse. Let them in please, someone!!!!!!!!! Back in the shelter of his ancient house at the other end of Cornwall, the VHM is conserving his energy for the Godrevy Party, and having replaced the Delabole slates that blew off the roof in the wind, is enjoying the delights of a glass of wine, a 'real' Christmas Tree (oh, that wonderful smell), and polishing the oak furniture in readiness for Christmas (more wonderful smells from the beeswax polish) as the smoke curls up the massive chimney from the ash logs in the wood-burner, and Anna sits and enjoys yet another re-run of 'Titanic' on the little TV in the corner of the parlour. The Honourable (or Otherwise) John C. Virtual Harbour Master of the Lighthouse.