New Year's Eve

We took a drive down to Leith and the coast bit this morning after a hefty and late breakfast. It is quite an attractive part of town now that it has been regenerated. Not the Leith of Trainspotting, although a Geordie vicar does conduct tours of the area taking people around the scenes of Welsh's books.

We inevitably sat in another cafe and had lunch. The Cougar Lounge, which was very comfy with brown leather sofas and a brilliant paper-reading atmosphere.

During the afternoon, I headed off to the airport to pick up James, Alex and Kate. I had no idea where it was and just followed the signs. It was a bit nervy as the route seemed to just be through suburban high streets. But I got there ok and back to the flat. Edinburgh is a strange place for traffic jams - we passed about 50 buses all stuck in the bus lane while the cars whizzed by on the normal roads. The reverse of London.

Pre-New Year celebrations started at about 5pm with chilli and champagne and Baileys and beers. Nicely warmed up we headed into the crush of Princes Street. There was a minute's silence for the dead of the tsunami which was quite well observed but some twats kept blathering on about whatever shit they thought was more important. But on the whole it was a huge good natured crowd - everyone was on a dancing and drinking Hogmanay mission. We had to hold hands and barge through the crowds in a chain.

At 12 o'clock fireworks went off marking the new year. Then, what seemed like minutes later the party was over and we were asked to leave. As we headed back to the flat there was man standing butt-naked but for his trousers round his ankles to raise money for the disaster fund. Amusing, yes, but to be honest I am glad that I paid into the official collection rather than handing over cash to a naked student holding out his hat.

On the way home, someone had the bright idea of herding us all into a club. I was rather underdressed wearing an ancient t-shirt and walking boots while the glameratti of Edinburgh were in tiny little dresses and killer heels. Nevertheless, in we went and we did lots of dancing and more drinking. It was such fun, especially as the floor was so wet and slippery it was like skating about on an ice rink. Health and safety not an issue up here!

TOH, Nikki and I left 'early' and fell into bed about 3.30am. The rest of the gang bowled up about 5am and were outside ringing the bell for some time until I woke up and let them in.

Bring on Derek Acora

A grey day in Edinburgh. We met Nikki at Waverly Station and came back to the flat before heading out to the Scottish National Gallery. There was the usual collection of 400-year-old religious stuff and dour portraits. The best bit was the Scottish collection downstairs, where there was some interesting pieces spanning the ages.

The gallery had very informative signs up next to the works, which also boasted a few Van Goghs, Monets, Gaugains and Degas in its impressionist room. My favourite picture in the whole place was a renaissance Madonna/baby Jesus painting which was a beautiful red and gold theme with William Morris-esque foliage and flowers painted all around them. I didn't take a note of who painted it or what it was called as I assumed there would be a postcard of it for sale in the shop. Ha - never assume, asses, you and me. There wasn't one. I will have to go back if there is time.

We then braved the continuous rain to join a ghost tour of the town. It was fun, especially when we descended into some catacombs under South Bridge.

Afterwards, on the way to find a restaurant (actually quite difficult as everywhere in town was rammed) we came across a street festival with people on stilts and strange motorised creatures. There was also a band calling dances.

The Edinburghers are to be congratulated; while we were huddling under umbrellas they just wore waterproof coats and danced in the rain, spinning each other round and dosey-doeing.

In the restaurant, TOH managed to pull off a Little Britain joke perfectly. He ordered gnocchi per il primo piatto e il risotto pescatore per il secondo in near perfect Italian, and an Irn Bru. What would have been unthinkable in London didn't so much as raise an eyebrow here.

Over dinner, Nikki asked me if I had been to the areas affected by the tsunami - TOH shot back that we'd come straight here to Edinburgh after Boxing Day but are planning an aid visit in the new year. He thought this was the funniest thing he said all week and made me include it here in my blog.

The news has moved on to disparaging reports about local efforts to help those who survived the wave. I find it quite distasteful that the BBC can send well-fed reporters over there to criticise what developing world nations can do in this kind of situation and imply the UN is the only organisation which can help. Sure, aid is on its way and it is much needed, but there is no need to send patronising and skewed reports back here.

117,000 people confirmed dead. The British Government shamed into increasing it's aid donation to £50million from £15million after the British public donated £20million and counting. Typical New Labour self-congratulatory spin doctoring in the face of such a terrible disaster - Hilary Benn was on the news boasting about how the UK is now the biggest single donator to the disaster fund. They make me puke.

House of Flying Scotsmen

It was very dark when we woke up at about 10am. Guess that'll be because we are further north than normal. We wandered into town via a hilltop park where the Nelson Tower monument is and appreciated the view.

At the summit a band of security guards were looking after some metal cans on poles. I asked one what they were up to and it turned out they were keeping people from parking up there as there was to be a torchlight procession through town culminating at the peak where a huge bonfire was waiting to consume a model Viking boat which was going to be dragged through the streets and onto the pile!

That was something to plan the day towards!

We wandered down the hill and towards the new Scottish Parliament building at the end of the Royal Mile. It was agreed that it is an even uglier structure than it looked on the TV when it opened. God only knows who chose that from the scores of designs that were undoubtedly put forward.

From there we wandered up the Royal Mile, stopping in what could be my favourite shop in the world - Plaisir du Chocolat. Mmmm - a tea shop dedicated to all things chocolatey. It just needed Johnny Depp to arrive in his rickety old river boat (which in Chocolat ended up be consumed by fire!) to make it perfect. I had to make do with The Other Half instead. He insisted on having a dry old biscuit with his drink and then ate half of my dreamy chocolate cake.

The buildings along the mile are beautiful. Oldy and woldy. My favourite had little turrets built on to the sides of a granite tower.

We made it to the castle at the end with only one purchase - a cashmere jumper for TOH.

As dusk fell, we headed back to the flat for food before heading back up the hill to watch the Viking procession arrive. We had spotted a troop of Vikings ar-arrring in town during the day by the sacrificial boat. The whole town must have joined them for the march as about a mile of torchlights could be seen weaving their way through the streets and up the peak. Bagpipes and samba bands accompanied them.

The bonfire was quite impressive. By the time the boat caught light the wind was so strong that I feared the sparks flying off the fire were going to burn someone or something. But it was also a very damp night so Edinburgh was safe from the flames.

As we headed back to the flat to pick up the car, a stunning display of fireworks went off. I expect the New Year's Eve ones will be even better.

We went to the cinema to watch House Of Flying Daggers. It is a beautiful film to watch - the scenery, the costumes and the actors. The story was adequate.

At least it took my mind of the 100,000 people who died at the weekend, and presumably still counting. Like so often when the news is full of death and destruction, it's easy for us to think of something else.

Not so hard

Not a bad night's sleep in such a soul-less room. We packed our enormous suitcases, left them in the reception and headed off over the Tyne to the Baltic Centre.

We walked along the quayside as it didn't open 'til 10am. On a distant hill there were a couple of flat buildings which were made to look exactly like a pair of ocean liners heading out to sea. I was almost convinced they were ships and had to ask a local if they were - much to Adam's amusement. He was only pretending he could even see them as they were a long way away!

From there we could see Newcastle was a lovely city with wonderful old buildings, churches and such like. We will have a proper look round when we come back to walk Hadrian's Wall at Easter.

There was four exhibitions in the Baltic - two were 'nuttin boot a waste-a space' (not my words but an elderly Geordie woman's) and two were very interesting.

The first was based around the tales told by Finnish pensioners about the old days in the cold north. When you entered the room there was a model railway circling the room. The track rode over eight tables arranged in a circle joined by eight model iron bridges. On the tables salt had been piled up to look like snowdrifts with twigs about 50cm high to look like wintry trees.

The train rode round the track stopping every two metres or so.

The pensioners spoke of snowy times and hardships on train journeys in frozen lands. The stories were told in a corrugated iron 'shed' in the corner of the room, which was a little cinema with about 20 seats.

On the screen was projected images from tiny cameras hidden in the model train. It was so good. We had fun sticking our faces right up to the train so we appeared on the screen!

On the way out, people are invited to make clay model self-portraits. Mine was of me, and not too bad, or so I thought. Adam also made me but I think it looked more like a bastard son of Elvis and Frankenstein’s monster.

The second was a room full of notices

From the Baltic, we crossed the carpark to the Sage to look about the inside. It was very interesting. Norman Foster designed the outside after an 'acoustician' had designed the three music halls inside.

I noticed that in the cold light of day your Geordie ain't so hard when it comes to going out in beach wear in the depths of winter. Oh no, they were all wrapped up warm, wearing hats, gloves and scarves.

The drive to Edinburgh was scenic - the A1 hugged the coast for a while and we turned off to have a look at Lindesfarne/Holy Island. The tide was coming in so we couldn't get over to the island but we walked down the causeway to the water's edge and saw the water rising in front of our very eyes. It was bitterly cold.

We arrived in Edinburgh before dark and found the flat. It is all a bit IKEA with blonde laminate wood floors and a rubbish heating system - something you would have thought people living in grim-up-north land would make a bit of a priority. But it is very nice and will certainly do us for the week.

The town looked beautiful after dark - all the trees have lights in and there is a funfair in the Princes Street Gardens, with a Ferris wheel lit up like a Christmas tree. The castle on top of the old volcano plug sat bathed in orange light watching over the people below ice skating in a temporary rink and flying through the night sky on bungee cord/trampoline contraptions, baby roller coasters and assorted scary rides.

We found a fabulous place to eat; Mussel Inn. Fresh mussels, scallops and oysters are brought straight from the west coast of Scotland by the owner, who happens to be the fisherman, every day. Mmmmm. delicious.

Got confused on the way home as there are two pedestrian crossings which have dislocated voices booming out instructions on when to cross, presumably for the blind. But instead of saying 'cross' or 'don't cross' they mumble something along the lines of 'The traffic coming from the direction of Princes Street has been signalled to stop. You may proceed with caution across the road'. All very peculiar and off-putting. Blind people will be worrying so much about what this metallic person is saying they would probably not hear what the traffic is doing

Rang the earthquake disaster fund 0870 60 60 900.

Fifty-nine thousand people gone. And more missing. It is incomprehensible.

Lord of Harpole

It was up and out this morning after lugging practically everything we own down to the car in our biggest suitcases. We have packed more stuff for a few days up north than we ever did for any of our holidays!

The M1 to Derby was manic. Lots of traffic. We met Ceri at the station for a drink. It was great to see her again as we have had sporadic contact while she has been in Barcelona. The houses around the station are very cute.

Then we made our way to Newcastle. I have never been here before and am very impressed with the bits we have seen so far (I am writing this in the hotel room in the 'travel tavern'). By that I am referring to the bridges and architecture. I am also impressed that the old stereotype that Geordies go out in miniskirts and knee high boots whatever the weather is actually true!

It is just above freezing point tonight with a rather chilling wind blowing through town and NOBODY has a coat on! We stand out as incomers badly as we have been wearing hats, scarves and gloves. And I thought we would at least look 'local' until we spoke.

We headed down to the riverside looking for the fog on the Tyne but all we found was the new Sage building. It is very impressive - at first glance it looks like a giant cruise ship sailing down the river with its lights all aglow. From somewhere across the water the sound of All Saints' Pure Shores being played was floating in our direction, which I thought was rather inappropriate considering the news from The Beach area!

After admiring the new Millennium Bridge and all the old ones, which are very familiar having been seen on TV so much, we wandered into the new town looking for somewhere to eat. We found the world famous Rupali curry house (6 Bigg Market) run by the legendary Abdul Latif, now Lord of Harpole. If any of you have ever read Viz, you would know what I am on about. Naturally, we went in for a meal, despite the fact that from the outside it looked like a real dump.

Inside, we were greeted by his lordship and shown to a table for two. The food was actually pretty good. I was certainly impressed that they had chapattis and prarentha - both hard to find in London toon, even Brick Lane.

After, Lord Harpole came over for a chat and gave us a copy of Viz to take home. What a nice man.

You could, if you wanted, hire him as a Lord-o-gram - for a small fee he will guest appear at your stag do or party dressed in a robe and turban.

The restaurant was plastered with Viz connections such as a special Viz menu, which judging by what some girls were eating on another table, consisted of prawn cocktail and popadams.

When we left, it was lashing down with rain. The girls, who were dressed as if they were mincing up and down Falaraki high street didn't even seem to care that not only were they fucking freezing, they were also soaked to the skin. It is extraordinary.

But on the whole, it is a friendly city with everyone seeming to be out in gangs of mates purely to have a good laugh.

A nice antidote to the dreadful news that the death toll in Asia is about 24,000 people. Every time I hear the news I mumble a hope that this event will help people come together rather than focus on war and terror. Some good news is that the Tamil Tigers have declared a cease-fire in Sri Lanka.

Boxing day

We woke up to the terrible news about SE Asia. What a horrorshow. My heart goes out to all the people over there who have lost their lives. It is just so terrible. When you think of great natural disasters, they are all in the distant past. To have an earthquake and tidal wave so devastating in our lifetime seems somehow wrong.

But our day had to go on. We visited some of TOH's elderly and distant aunts. One lived in Hong Kong and we spent an hour chatting about the good old days on the islands. We brought back buried memories for each other.

Then we popped back over to my dad's to say hello. We went the long way round the M25 to get there from Essex to charge TOH's battery in his car - first it wouldn't start and then he ran out of petrol, which was fun.

And back home to get ready for our big trip to Newcastle and Scotland.

Merry Christmas

What a wonderful Christmas! I got a bumper crop of excellent presents but best of all was waking up with The Other Half for the first time at Christmas. Ahhhh.

We went over to my dad's for turkey and roast puddings - all of us, TOH's parents and sister, my aunt and uncle and cousin and even my brother turned up and had three helpings of Christmas pudding.

My dad did us proud, catering for ten people. It was a lovely day.

Curtain twitching

(Apologies to Fawcett Min MBE - I tried really hard to find the place where you were drinking last night but couldn't work it out at all. I blame your sister!)

I was an upstanding member of the community (or a nosey parker, depending on your point of view) this morning. I was looking out of the window to see if the postman was coming to deliver my Amazon order when I spotted a fella having a row with a woman.

Outside the gates were two upturned pushchairs with bundles of the local paper strewn across the road. Inside, the man had grabbed a bundle off the woman and started lumping her with it!

I was about to shout out 'Oi! Leave it!' but I was in the all-together, having just got out of the shower.

Eventually, he disappeared and the woman's younger female companion arrived and got on the phone, obviously calling the police.

When they arrived (very promptly in two cars on a blue light!), I sneaked downstairs (having got dressed first) and beckoned an officer over without the man seeing me.

I told the young PC (handsome boy) I saw the bloke swinging at her with the papers before he lobbed them over the gate.

Mr Plod thanked me for the information, which should help as I was an independent witness, and added that the man was 'behaving like a twat'. He asked if the bloke was a known trouble maker but to be honest, I had never seen him before.

But, after all that excitement, I discovered my Amazon parcel had arrived and I had to go to the post office to collect it. Thank god - it would have been embarrassing to tell people they couldn't have their presents until next year!

And it saved me ringing Amazon again and demanding they email personal apologies to those who would have had empty stockings!

Ding, dong merrily on high

Yesss! Christmas shopping all done. Get in there.

I just have to hope my Amazon order arrives in time or it will be a pretty bleak crimbo for some people at mine this year!

I met Jenny after work in Oxford St. It was crowded but not the chaos you would imagine. The only real annoyance I had was with my crappy Oystercard.

A survey person checked it on Sunday morning (he was gathering information for DLR improvements) and said I had £5 pre-pay on it. However, trying to get through the gates revealed that I did not have any pre-pay on it all. Cue station workers moaning at me and telling false information about my own travel arrangements!

I have come to realise over the past few days I have a real problem with people giving me unsolicited 'advice'. Actually, I have always know I have an issue with people telling me what to do, but recent events have brought it out in me more often. Maybe it is the female version of 'short man syndrome'.

I know the feeling's not mutual but I have forgiven you, Jesus

Office Party

The Wapping Project looked lovely. They had lined the path to the entrance with flaming outdoor candles and lined the ante-room with fake snow and red carpet.



Huge chandeliers hungs from the lofty rafters and waiters circulated the room handing out drinks.

There was a DJ playing a wide mix of music but I mostly sat about talking to colleagues. I left before midnight so am not sure if I missed any gossip or not.

Boating

Saturday and Sunday, I brought my lovely Ganges back down the river during the day. It was mostly cold, cold and more cold.

Dad helped the first day, and The Other Half on the second. Actually the second leg was even colder!

But despite the freezing temperatures we did managed to have a flaming row with the rowing club. As we set off, one fella passed us and shouted at us about being on the river (it was hard to hear what he was saying over the noise of the engine) but I think he was saying there were more rowers coming down.

'What do you want me to do about it?' I shouted back. TOH simply said: 'Piss off, dickhead,' which I thought was inspired; a proper schoolboy response. We were laughing.

The rest of the rowers came by without a problem. They were being barked at by their coach, who was cycling along the towpath.

When we finally caught them up as they took a break, I think it turns out the trainer was shouting at us. I have no idea why. I was on my side of the river, going at an appropriate speed.

While one of the rowers was lamenting that we had somehow 'spoiled the race', TOH was busy telling the midget-bully-boy-coach that his face was going very red when he shouted that I was not fit to be in charge of a boat!

As you can imagine, that little remark brought the red mist down. After telling the rowers they need to learn to share the water I was stunned into just shaking my head and repeating: 'I can't believe the rudeness, the ignorance. I just don't believe it. How dare they.'

I rang British Waterways and they agreed that the rowers had no right of way and suggested I write and complain about their behaviour to both the club secretary and BW HQ. I think I will.

Morrissey

On the way to Earl's Court on Saturday night, I told The Other Half how much I would love Mozza to play How Soon Is Now, which is in my top five all-time toppest songs ever. I'd have it as my First Dance song, if it wasn't so entirely inappropriate.

(The La's There She Goes has also been ruled out by TOH who dubbed it a "drugs song".)

And Lo! Like a representative of a higher being (he was dressed as a Catholic priest), the first song He played was indeed How Soon Is Now.

Such emotion, such showmanship. What a great man he is.



In between songs he made his trademark cryptic comments such as 'Why did you come here', '[Morrisey] It's a great name, but look where it's been' and 'I happy to be here in Earl's Court. But what does that mean?'

Some speculated that last comment suggested that it was his last UK gig but to be honest, would you chose Earl's Court as your big finale and only play one encore song?

I made a note of the playlist so we can make our own gig CD:


• How Soon Is Now?
• First Of The Gang To Die
• November Spawned A Monster
• Don't Make Fun Of Daddy's Voice
• Bigmouth Strikes Again (As the flames rose to her Roman nose, her iPod started to melt)
• I Like You
• Redondo Beach (Patti Smith cover)
• Let Me Kiss You
• Subway Intro/munich air disaster 1958
• There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
• The More You Ignore Me The Closer I Get
• Friday Mourning
• I Have Forgiven Jesus
• The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores
• Shoplifters Of The World Unite
• Irish Blood English Heart
• You Know I Couldn't Last
• (Encore) Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me

What to wear?

It's Black Friday, according to some ambulance crews; it's party Friday for everyone else!

Tonight is the factory's Christmas party in the Wapping Project. I am actually looking forward to it, despite the fact I literally have nothing to wear. Not literally, I have clothes, but nothing suitable for a party.

I chucked away a lot of old stuff this year and haven't bothered to replace it. So it is either the one pair of jeans I wear virtually every day to the office or ... or ... a stained dress I last wore to a wedding in the sweltering summer of 2004.

Oh god, I don't have a thing to wear.

Went to the chiropractor today. While he is impressed at how well my back is doing, he said had he known I was going to spend six days hunched over a sander, he would have told me not to even think about it. Ooops.

There were porpoises in the Thames today. How cute!

Dreaming of a Green Christmas

(FLAT UPDATE: The bathroom has no tiles on the floor. The wood underneath smelt like a pack of damp huskies. Now there is a plumber removing the toilet to take out the floor. Can it get any worse? We will be living like this until at least the end of January.)

The boat is finished. It looks a bit better, well it will when I put a second coat of paint on in the spring. But I rather like its new dark green finish. And the rust has been treated, which was the thing that kept me awake at night.

Last night, TOH and I went on a Greenpeace 'pub crawl' to raise funds for the Southbank group. It was quite good fun bursting into pubs with a chorus of Jingle Bells and talking to the festive punters. Some of the more poncy bars told us to f* off but the proper boozers were all quite welcoming.

I was amazed that people were much more friendly being asked for money than they were when we stood along the Thames asking people to sign a postcard for the Oceans campaign! (Have you signed it yet?)

I don't know how much we raised but I am guessing about £50, which is a good start.

I Heart Ganges (and TOH)

Two years today! Two years of being boyfriended up with the lovely, lovely Other Half. Who'd have thought it, eh? Two years. And it only feels like a few months ...

But I am so, so tired. I have spent the past five days working on my boat. And it is filthy work - the first two days were spent scraping, blasting and sanding and being covered in muck and blowing black bogies.

Yesterday and today, I finally got some paint on the roof and sides, and although it will need another coat in the spring, it is looking good!

Thanks to able seamen TOH and Dad who helped with the hard work, in the cold and damp and misery!

The guy who runs the boatyard, Richard, is an absolute star. He has been dishing out advice and bits of kit and tools left, right and center. No doubt I will have to pay for it in the end, when he presents me with a HUGE bill, but the help has been appreciated.

At one point, after the surveyor came and tested the hull (and said it was basically as good as it was when it was made 20 years ago) I had a bit of welding done to strengthen a couple of areas.

The welder, Alan (who looked exactly like Ricky Grover) had me on 'firewatch' inside the bathroom. It was most disconcerting to see smoke billowing out from behind the wall panels as the welding heated up the polystyrene liner!

I went to the local go-kart track today to pick up a load of tyres to use as fenders. They are going to look really cool - they are so dinky and cute!

But, my god! it is hard work. Another good reason for selling while it is in its prime! So if anyone you know wants a beautiful vessel to live on, email me.

Friday night we went to the Greenpeace Christmas party. That was ... interesting. Lots of drunk hippy-types dancing about and shivering outside in the freezing cold smoking fags. But Greenpeace HQ is in a very cool building in Cannonbury, so it was interesting to have a nose about.

We saw I Heart Huckabees last night. What a weird film! Existentialist detectives, if you please!

I was very happy to see that Jude Law still isn't very good at acting. It just goes to show what a pretty face does for you. Somehow, even though he is so very successful and in demand, it makes me feel better that he isn't there because he is talented.

Just call me Flashdance

It was a simple enough plan - drop car off at Canning Town for its MOT, get train to 'Ackney and then to Enfield Lock to work on boat. So simple, that I ended up on the wrong train heading to Chigwell. Got a train back a stop only to find the Enfield train didn't stop there.

It was getting late so I thought I would just get a cab. £15 to the dock, a big layout, but I would save about an hour.

But it wasn't to be - all the roads in Clapton were shut off because of an 'incident'.

So, I passed the time with the driver Peter, and I was glad I did. He was a really interesting bloke. He left Uganda in the early 60s, trained as a psychiatric and theatre nurse in Manchester and worked all the hours he could so he could send his daughter to boarding school. He is very proud of the fact that she is now a lawyer in the US.

He is on his second marriage, to a woman from Senegal, and they have an eight-year-old son. He made sure the boy is 'engaged' outside of school by enrolling him in tennis school, tap and ballet lessons and piano lessons!

His mother and two sisters are still in Uganda, but his two brothers died of AIDS.

He is now retired and spends his time doing a bit of cabbing and working for an AIDS charity which assists Ugandans in this country.

He loves comedy and goes to the Edinburgh fringe every year and follows tennis. He had a lovely mellow way of speaking and totally calmed me down as I was rather worked up over the fact my journey was not going to plan and there was a lot of work to do on the boat.

When I finally got to Enfield, Ganges was looking horrendous. The guys were busy scraping the bottom. They think there is some welding that needs doing, but the surveyor will check properly tomorrow. I also need four new anodes.

I spent the day in overalls wielding an angle grinder, scraping the paint off the roof to cut through the rust spots. I felt just like Flashdance, except I wasn't welding.

It's a worry, you know, rust on the boat. It breaks my heart to think I don't look after her properly. I think I will have to sell her, much against my heart's judgement, as it is such a drain financially and I never really use her. But it will be hard. It is like selling your dog.

The mighty, mighty Bellenator

(FLAT UPDATE: The fella from Rainbow - the company in charge of deciding how stained our carpets are - had the cheek to tell me, in my own house, that the claim was being delayed because I hadn't phoned the insurance company immediately after he came to clean them two weeks ago. How f*ing dare he! I filled out forms, spoke to the idiots at the claims dept, spoke to a man from Allied carpets and suddenly it's MY fault? I don't think so. I had to go and stand in the kitchen and let TOH deal with the f*er)

Christmas season has been officially opened - with trays of garlic bread, duck spring rolls, breaded mushrooms, and of course mince pie.

It was bring a bauble at Bellen's last night - yes, a Tuesday, and a school night to boot.

But anyone who's anyone was there (Bridget, Sara, what was your excuse?) carefully dangling their ornaments on the tree and quaffing back the mulled wine.

I confess mine (a The Office bauble) was liberated from the office - from the top of my computer, in fact, but everyone else made lots of effort finding cutsie thingamybobs for the tree.

However, I did remember Christmas cards for the first time in living memory. Apart from Jo's, which was not in my bag. And today I discovered, not on my desk. F* knows where that went. Sorry Jo, but the thought was there!

This is proper funny: Rainbow clip

I've started so I'll finish

(FLAT UPDATE: Insurance company has agreed to pay up for shoes - minus ten per cent wear and tear - but seem reluctant to actually give us the money. Company responsible for drying out floor and walls has decided that our bathroom floor needs to be ripped out, and probably all the bathroom facilities. So that's nice.)

Cross Plateau off your list of potential dining places – it’s all style and no substance.

We went up there on Friday night to book a table for Saturday and it took the two dimwits behind the desk about 20 mins to take our details – probably because they felt they needed to explain what ravioli was when we asked what the vegetarian option was.

On Saturday, we arrived and sat at the lush bar sipping cocktails; god strike me down if it isn’t true but there was a fly in my drink! The bar tender thought it might be a piece off the fresh pineapple, but it was actually a dead fly.

An enquiry from the Sampsoness later for a glass of fresh juice revealed they only have carton orange, cranberry and, surprise, surprise, pineapple.

Sipping the replacement, I noticed there was no table-for-six in the room. I spoke to the receptionist, who, during her 20 minutes the previous night managed to have booked us into the wrong room.

A stiff conversation with the maitre de later, and we were accommodated by the window in the bar/grill, as requested.

Food was quite nice, even though the wrong dish was brought out for one of the party’s starter. I was quizzed as to whether I was drinking still.

I looked at my untouched glass of wine and thought: ‘I haven’t really started!” but it turned out, the waitress was asking me if I was drinking still water but she left off that vital clue to the meaning of her question.

All that bumbling inefficiency did, however, lead to one good thing – they forgot to charge us for the drinks we had at the bar, and we forgot to tell them. Yeah, sorry about that Terence.

During the day on Saturday and Sunday, The Other Half and I took the boat up to Springfield and then on to Enfield dock.

Going round the Isle of Dogs at 7.45am against the tide was actually the best way to do the Thames. We had a lovely smooth ride, river all to ourselves apart from the boats from Poplar Rowing Club. A weak sun came out and kept us warm. Good old Ganges didn’t rock at all.

The second leg of the trip on Sunday, The Parents In-Law came too so we had a lovely day pootling up to Enfield.

I was thinking Ganges might have to go but, really, I can’t sell her. I love that boat more than anything (apart from TOH, obviously).

Sunday night’s TV was one in the eye for Daily Hate Mail readers: an Asian teenage girl won Britain’s Best Speller comp, and a Black barrister won Mastermind. Hopefully, that will shut up the idiots who buy that litter tray liner!

Most exciting news ever

Fawcett Min is being honoured with an MBE!

I am so pleased for her. What an amazing thing to happen. There she is, dodging shells and fighting cabin fever (or should I say container fever) in Baghdad and now the Queen will be shaking her hand!

CONGRATULATIONS GIRL!

How very, very brilliant.

Everything else which has happened today, mostly revolving around the miracle of velcro, pales into insignificance.

I just want to grab Sara, jump up and down, spin her round and drink champagne!

Specifically in that order, to reduce the risk of vomiting.

Pads

My first-ever eBay purchase arrived today - protection pads for the hands, elbows and knees for when I fall off my rollerblades. Tomorrow will be the first outing on them in the park at lunchtime.

Another episode of Blackpool this evening, and off to bed. Rock 'n' roll it ain't.

It's a start

Welcome to December. The last 31 days of the year. I can hardly believe it. It's true that as you get older you can feel your life slipping by! No wonder my mum used to get so angry at me when I would spend my teenage Saturdays laying about on the sofa watching telly.

It is also just 24 days to Christmas. I made a start on buying presents last night by heading into Canary Wharf after work. I have decided that if I can't buy it there, or off t'internet, then you ain't getting it. There is no way I am going to face Oxford St and the like, even if it does have fancy Christmas spotlights. Bah humbug.

In fact, I can't go to Selfridges or John Lewis even if I wanted to as the next three weekends will be spent scraping and painting the boat. So, if anyone fancies a break from shopping, you can always come and lend a hand!