As it's the done thing to parade the inner self hereabouts, I'll add that this poem by John Engels hangs accusingly and companionably by my desk, reminding me of my abiding character flaw.
That's enough of the inner self. I'm to tag some more people for them to dish out a few facts, so over to you at your leisure Devon, Jaboopee, Flora May and Julian Barnes, who is, I assume, a constant reader. Who have I forgotten? Don't worry if you've done one of these before, just do it again in January with the same plot and a different villain.
Happy Christmas to all the wonderfully wise and giddy commentators.