My packing's nearly done and I'm off out of here to the dim, distant wilderness of Dartmoor. Have a great new year - I shall be at a beach party. Enjoy...

Oh, forgot to say: Christmas Chris came up trumps again! Whoo hoo!!

Have finished baking; chances of accidental dribbling much reduced. Chances of midnight feasting, however, are far increased. Bah!

Christmas was great, from the candle-lit carol service at the parish church to the Christmas dinner so large that we had to stop and sleep between courses. Much amusement was provided by my brother's hangovers, my parents' cats and my elderly aunt's comments about my seasonal hair and lack of bloke. I'm now back home and baking cakey-buns in preparation for New Year in Devon. Chocolatey smells are wafting gently round and I'm starting to drool. I suspect that dribble in the keyboard is not something recommended in the manufacturer's handbook, so I'm off...

And now, the end is nigh, and as I face the final curtain...

There are two items left unticked on my To Do list
The hair dye is developing slowly on my head
The oil and water on the Madmobile have been checked
Fatso has been fed and watered
Assorted presents are packed into boxes ready for the journey to the old folks'
I've still not sent any Christmas Cards *

...I did it < cue dreadful singing > MYYYYY WAAAYYYY! < /singing >

* Have yet again failed miserably in the card department this year; if you're owed one, sorry. Consider this your Christmas greeting.

Paj has already expressed a preference for his favourite literary work; another preference came in via the box o'er there. I think mine is probably this one. Or maybe this one. One that didn't make it over from the original message board is the Rev. Spooner's version which makes me laugh every time; it can fortunately be found here.

On more mundane matters:

So what's happened to fatso? He's not been mentioned in despatches for ages? And who is this Mark you mention? Caz (with a hint of Dr Tom)

Fatso is alive, well and scampering merrily. Unfortunately he's worked out how to escape from his hamster ball, leaving me to crawl round the flat looking under sofas and calling to him. It's just not on. Pah! Oh, and Mark? He's my best mate from university... words do not do him justice, except to say that I'd be half the woman I am today if I hadn't met him (physically speaking, anyway: he always bought lunch).

Right - off to wrap pressies and dye my hair (a festive shade of Christmas Purple, should you really wish to know).

A little something I happened across, related - I might add - to this afternoon's fillum. Be prepared to spend hours here being a literary wotsit.

I still haven't posted any Christmas cards. In fact, I've still got to write most of them. Instead of writing cards, I went to to the uber-bustling metropolis of Nottingham, where I ate noodles with Mark and then watched some film. I suspect it's not going to be a big box-office hit, but it was enjoyable enough. My punishment for such frivolity is an aching muscle in my shoulder, which makes it painful to laugh or wave my arms around; Mark reckons it's a delayed reaction to Friday night's smooching, but I suspect it's more to do with sleeping in a silly position at a funny angle in an odd way strangely (no matter how I write it it sounds dubious. It isn't. Honest).

Tomorrow I MUST buy presents: it's getting a tad late to be faffing around now. Come on Emuss, get a grip...

Le Weekend:
Guide party, sugary food, drive, M6 toll road, loud 80s music, Cheltenham, pint, JD, JD, JD, laugh, JD, dance, laugh, JD, JD, smooch, sleep, wake, grimace, cup of tea, cup of tea, cup of tea, cup of tea, greasy fry-up, James Bond, cup of tea, cup of tea, drive, oil warning light, hasty stop at garage, drive, Worcester, pantomime, banoffee pie, more banoffee pie, meringueythingy, drive, sleep, wake, drive, jazz classics, Derby, lunch, coffee, home, collapse.

This is what comes from trying to cram too many weekends into one two-day period. It's not big and it's not clever.* Don't try this at home.

* But it is fun

A year ago today K and Pete got married. I was hoping to use my newly-discovered geeky skills to put here my favourite picture(s) from their wedding, or - dare I say - from the shennanigans after the formalities. However, it has not proved an easy task.

As with many other things here on Planet Mad, the storage of photographs is somewhat haphazard: photo wallets get chucked into a large cupboard, regardless of chronology or logic; relocating a specific picture is done by methodically emptying out the entire cupboard and opening every wallet. I did this twice. There was not even a hint of a Johns' wedding photo. I have since realised that photogaphy took an enforced hiatus when I lost my camera last summer, so instead I will have to leave you with this picture of the bride (taken, I hasten to add, some years earlier):



She will not thank me for showing the picture of her the following morning, and so I will (for once) restrain myself. Happy anniversary!

Today's shopping expedition has been a trial throughout, from the queues into the carpark to the inept checkout woman at the end, meandering via ankle-high brats playing tig in Ottakars and countless other shops stocked full of items I didn't want to buy. In terms of seasonal present purchases, I acquired the grand total of bollock-all. I did get some drinks and cakes for Guides (party tonight) and a map of Dartmoor (for New Year), but they hardly qualify for registration on the present-o-meter. Shucks. Looks like I've still got a lot of work to do next week.

Tummy soooo full. Feet soooo heavy. Going to exploooode.... aaaargh....

It seems that I am a medium* or a psychic: the sleep epic did indeed take place.

*although possibly verging on large if seen from the wrong angle due to the amount of meals I've eaten in pubs/restaurants/curry houses in the last 5 days!

Classic tunes murdered this night: The trumpet shall sound; I know that my redeemer liveth; Oh we like sheep (but lamb is best). Those who know things about music say that the tempo and ornamentation were wrong; I just know that my fingers hurt, my back aches and I didn't quite manage to play all the notes, but mimed well enough to avoid detection. I feel an epic sleep session coming on...

Discovery of the day: pancakes with ginger preserve. Mmmm....

A thousand grovelling alopogies(sic):

You neglected to give us fair warning that there was a birthday approaching. Bad Mad! Glad to hear it was a good one. --paj [off, with Mrs J, to see Eddie Izzard on Saturday night]

My birthday fell in term-time this year, so was not celebrated with the usual debauchery; Eddie was good fun though... enjoy!

Today I shall be mostly cowering in the orchestra as a local Music Society perform their own version of The Messiah. In theory it's Handel's Messiah, but he didn't orchestrate it for old biddies who can no longer get the high notes, so they have to present their own interpretation. How I look forward to it!

I failed in my attempt to spend all of Monday in bed: I just don't have the stamina that I used to. Once upon a time I would have been able to spend three or four days lounging, moving only to get food or drink; nowadays I can't even manage 24 hours. What a failure. On the other hand, I have managed to fill my days with... eurm.... I don't really know what I've been doing.

Instead, I shall offer you the latest in comments (some of which have been languishing for some time, alack!):

First in reference to the bizarre behaviour of my juniors

The Heineken Maneuvre... surely that reaches blockages that other maneuvres cannot reach. Ashley

Quite so. Which leads us nicely to:

"Bdoing" is a lovely word. We need more Bdoings!

I agree. I shall leave my bra off tomorrow, which will bring quite a few more bdoings into the world. On second thoughts, that may not be the best plan: I have to play in a concert and will be told off for bdoinging in the wrong place. Hey ho.

Happy Birthday, Mad. Hope you have a great day. - Mal. :)

Cheer m'dear. 'Twas a good day - I went to see Eddie Izzard, and sat in All Bar One in Brum reading a very amusing book. This segues neatly to the final bit of commentage for this evening, refering to a post I made way back when

Yeah, did the punctuation quiz yesterday evening. Got full marks, akshully (fared less well on the spelling test) - Signor Casey

Blimey Crikey O'Riley. Too much excitement for one evening... I'm off.

Le date chaud was bon, in a "lots of caffeine and giggles" sort of way. Tonight I am playing hostess to various colleagues, in a "lots of booze and guffaws" sort of way. Tomorrow I intend to sleep, in a "can't be arsed to get out of bed" sort of way.

I love holidays.

I didn't make it as far as bed. I was sidetracked by instant messages, plans for the holidays, tidying up, a visit to the chippy and a cocktail/kareoke party. Pah.

Tomorrow I have a hot date (well - possibly more like luke-warm); tonight I should have been getting lots of sleep and letting my liver recover. It seems that I will never learn.

It's been sleepy-tired-delicate-hungover-wobbly sort of day so far. Am off to bed.