falling into 2011...

It's that time of year that sends a cold shiver of dread down most turkeys' spines. Actually that has passed now, It's 2011 already. The Christmas excesses have been stomached (just about) the champagne glasses have clinked (far too many times) and I am now on the other side of the holiday marathon contemplating the return to routine.

Christmas did not start well -I know it never does but 2010 was a blinder. It started with the office Christmas party the Friday before. We decided, as it was so bloody cold outside, that it made perfect sense to seal doom for our already alcohol battered immune systems and spend a good hour in the ice bar. To be fair they do give you attractive 'Scottish Widow' outfits at the front door that keep you snug and warm but they do not warm your toes, and I cannot abide cold toes.

Anyway, some time after the indigestible festive meal we stand queuing to enter some gloriously chavtastic dive called Strawberry Moons, when a fight breaks out knocking my dear colleague to the floor in the overspill. I recall shouting something like "stop it you brutes!" before calmly entering the establishment still reeling from the whole thing. Many hours later I leave this orgy of fake tan and go home harbouring a vicious little stomach bug. I spend the next few days with my head not too far from a toilet bowl quietly panicking about the fact that it is already December 23rd, I am incapable of movement and I have done no Christmas shopping. I did consider that it would be the perfect excuse for cancelling christmas and giving no presents, but that just wouldn't wash with the people I know - they would batter the door down at my death bed with interrogative demands and poke me with sticks.

Anyway, once the great sickness of 2010 had finally subsided I had about 3 hours left to do ALL my christmas shopping (only once I had had a long lunch with my father, of course - dutch courage). All in all it was successful -I nearly dropped a glove in the urinal, knocked 5 Japanese tourists over, spent 15 minutes on Oxford Street (quite enough) and was back in Clapham in time to raise a glass for gin lady christmas. I could gloat for Britain, except that I then spent the next 24 hours throwing up again...back to reality with a gut-wrenching thud.

I would go on and recount Christmas and New Year but my neck hurts and I'm too darn sleepy. Tomorrow I plan contemplate the amount of Screenwriting work I have to do in ever mounting hysteria. At least Marc has opened that good bottle of red...