It's a familiar experience in noughties Britain. A pub that you used to go in, one you could always rely on for good company and conversation; a place you could while away a bit of time, get the mickey took if you supported anyone other than United, get pointed in the direction of new music; look at pics of how the kids are coming along. And then one day, there's metal grilles where the windows used to be, and a To Let notice getting more forlorn by the day.

You stop passing by. Unitil one day, you happen to notice that there's a warm glow emanating from inside. The tills ringing again. The jukebox is playing Richard Hawley's latest album, just the thing for winter.

Which is my poncy and poetic way of saying, we're back in business. We've changed the barrel, but everything else is the same.

Merry Christmas.