Saturday, December 27, 2003
Christmas seemed to pass in the blink of a (slightly bleary) eye this year and I spent most of it with stomach pains from having eaten too much. By nine o'clock I was searching the fridge for a bottle of wine that I'd forgotten I'd already drunk. And I got bitten by one of my sister's pet rats - it thought I was a monkey nut. My grandad complained all the way through Pop Idol and I made my nephew cry after he dropped a plastic toy in my wine glass and I threw it at him - goodnaturedly of course - and the alcohol stung his eye. And Claire bought me a turntable so I can now play all my old records. Well, not all of them. I'm managing to resist my Chas and Dave seven-inches.

(I've been really lazy and stole all of the above from an email I sent one of my friends. Apologies to the friend in question!)

We went round the sales today, but it was about as successful a trip as the Beagle 2's. Actually, it must be nice on Mars; all that peace and quiet. I hope the Beagle 2 hasn't been captured by Martians who are right now trying to work out how to stop it playing that bloody Blur tune. I realise that these days, 'Blur tune' is an oxymoron. Anyway, back to the sales: I bought a pair of trousers from Fenwick and Butter bought nothing. I've just been working out the MarkCity awards for tomorrow - or, perhaps, the day after! Although I'll be back at work then.

My word for 2004 is "gravitas". Only one person will understand this!