Saturday: One member of our news team really distinguished herself at the opening of the festive ice rink in Uxbridge. I’ve never seen someone move round the ice with such speed, grace and poise. If it hadn’t have been for her clinging on to the side rail for dear life while inching round the rink with a look of sheer panic on her face, I’d have thought she was a pro. Perhaps Dancing On Ice won’t be calling just yet. Showers.

Sunday: In my home town there’s been quite a kerfuffle. My mum went to a sale at the local auction house, but instead of the usual pots, glasses and books on offer, there was a set of bones. That’s a bit weird to start with, but then the Australian government stopped the auction claiming the bones were aboriginal and belonged to them. Somehow, there’s always something a bit odd going on where I come from. Icy.

Next week: Woolworths going bust is sad for many reasons, but for me, I am lamenting the loss of an institution, a reason to look forward to this time of year – the Woolies Christmas advert. Every year, it would come up with something extra special, create a little wonderland on the television for one tremendous minute. When you see the ad, it’s time to crack open the mulled wine and mince pies – it’s a sad loss. Cold.