You were at work, wrestling a gorilla, a girl gorilla who was mean and pulled your hair. The gorilla was wearing a blonde wig, and was in a bar. With a big handbag. You were dressed like a farmer, and needed to buy a spade at Owino possibly because you have killed someone and need to bury the evidence in the back garden, a la Beth from Brookside. Armed with your spade you fled the authorities on a road trip to the river to destroy all the evidence. You had salad for lunch and then played the ping pong game well into the night (oo err missus). The next day, you rode a horse and then some Aussies. Then the authorities finally caught up with you, and you were arrested for doing bad things on the side of the road with the horse. Or the Aussies. This cost you, or the horse, £150,000.
Am I in any way close?
Meanwhile back in Blighty. I have started my new job and I am so freakin’ busy it isn’t even true. I love it though, writing about London life and getting paid to do it, is SO the mutts nuts. I’ll send Lisa out with copies of my efforts so you be all impressed and say nice things.
Rich and I went away to a friend’s holiday house in Poole, Dorset for a winter mini-break, which was lovely. But absolutely freezing. We went on lots of lovely long walks around the coast, on some alarmingly high cliffs which did nowt for my vertigo and meant at one point I was crawling on all fours. Oh how Richard laughed. Then we went to stay in Stoke Park Hotel because I was reviewing it for the magazine. It’s the hotel that Hugh Grant and Renee Zellweger went to for the mini-break in Bridget Jones. We even stayed in the same suite. Tres posh. And it’s also the place where Daniel Craig gets shot at the end of Layer Cake. Very cool. It was snowing when we arrived. Snowing, remember that? It was lovely.
Christmas is well and truly here. We’ve had snow, Christmas carols, the Coke advert, advent calendars, flu bugs – and I nearly fainted in John Lewis. So i’d say we are well and truly festive here. This year’s Christmas lights on Oxford Street are again sponsored by Disney and Aslan, so that’s nice and corporate. On Carnaby Street they’re all random planets. It’s very odd. That said, with two major magazine deadlines on Friday and then next Thursday I’m not exactly thinking about Christmas but more about not getting my ass handed to me on a prickly Christmas wreath.
Christmas itself is going to be spent in West Wales, if it doesn’t snow, I am terrified of being stuck there for the rest of the holidays. Blurgh. And then we’re off to France for a couple of days to buy wine and salami, and spending New Year chilling at home with dinner and drinks and some friends, before heading up Parliament Hill to watch the fireworks with a flask of mulled wine. I am looking forward to it muchos.
I can’t think what else is new. I haven’t read any good books recently. You? Oooh, I went to Shampers the other day with that American. I am still recovering. He is a wicked man. And not in a good way.
Anyway, if we don’t speak before, which is a mighty shame, then have a totally supersonic Christmas and New Year. I hope you have lots and lots and lots of fun in the
sin sun. I await photographic evidence of all the fun.