Wallop

We finished mid-December with our grand tour of The Wallops — a trio of villages that sound like they belong in a children’s book or a sitcom about eccentric English countryside folk. Nether Wallop, Middle Wallop, and of course Over Wallop, where we stumbled into a pub so wildly vibrant it felt like someone had spiked the air with pure mischief. During our stay we even managed to secure a dog sit for January 2026 in Netheravon — just 15 minutes from Stonehenge because nothing says “responsible adults” like planning your life around ancient rocks and other people’s dogs.

Next, we drifted back down to Chichester to see Lottie, the canine equivalent of a warm blanket and a cup of tea. She talks more than most humans we know and cuddles like it’s her full‑time job.

Christmas, as usual, found us dog‑sitting somewhere completely random — this time Barnt Green in Worcestershire. We’d never heard of it, though apparently some well-known footballers live there. We wouldn’t know; our knowledge of football begins and ends with “the ball is round.”

Luckily, Lickey Hills Country Park was just around the corner, giving us endless space for long walks and the dogs endless opportunities to pretend they’d never been walked before. And to top it off, we were spoilt with our very own cinema room — perfect for catching up on movies and pretending we were far fancier than we actually are.

We wrapped up the year in our usual style: a hotel stay, a lovely meal, and a quiet celebration of another year filled with wagging tails, unexpected destinations, and the kind of stories that make you laugh when you realise this is, somehow, your life.