The mother outlaw's house us in a Maori area, where most people are built like tanks, and I don't think they had seen a jogging skeleton before. There's a drug dealer's house next door, which some people might find handy for Christmas presents.
This morning I feel as if I've run a marathon. Jogging must take a different kind of fitness from long walks.
The outlaws are quietly churchy and not very material, so in the spirit of anti-consumerism, I wondered what roadside junk I could make into presents.
I found some colourful gifts for a one-legged new mother.
Organic clothes brush.
For Albert's stocking