Gripping the mince pie

Friday... So that would be when the work comes in then. Actually not bad work, and clearly briefed, and it didn't break my holiday mood too much. Among other things, I wrote four little case study monologues: two men with erection problems, and a man and a woman with glaucoma. Ye Gods.

Broke off after lunch of miso soup (a packet job but organic, and with no poisonous MSG) to climb up the hill so Anna could tell me what I needed to do in my forthcoming role as Santa, and to give her an overdue birthday present.

I have been practicing my "ho-ho-ho" (not something you could get away with in - say - Brooklyn) and have opted for mellow and rich as opposed to booming. I don't want to create a team of little Santaphobics, who will begin to loathe Christmas, drop out of school, and end up assassinating Archduke Franz Ferdinand or something just because of a Wrong Santa. It's a responsibility.

My Godchildren Klaudia and Oskar both spontaneously gave me big hugs when they saw me. They are very cute. Klaudia had been an angel in the school nativity play this morning, and she had with her Sasha, a little girl who had been the innkeeper. The three children were very lively, fuelled by a stealthy harvest of Christmas tree chocolate decorations. Also the kittens Pinkie Barbie Ariel and Lenin the kittens were barging about the place too, all this milling about forced me to maintain a masterful grip on my mince pie.

Got a nice note from Randolph, a writer I met at Janet's gathering last weekend. I've suggested we meet for coffee.

Actually fiddled with a poem this evening before Lorraine came by, and we sloped off for a quick curry and a couple of beers. Brighton full of people tonight, and many of them were part of works Christmas parties. After popping into the Cricketers which was packed and shouty. Our usual curry house was full too. So we scooted along Ship Street with the fresh blustery wind coming off the sea to the second choice place where we were soon tucking into the poppadums.

Disappointingly, cloud cover prevented me glimpsing the full moon, which was supposed to have been the largest for a few years. We walked home under the big web of Christmas lights around the clock tower, which was being tossed about in the wind. A curiously lovely sight.

Once home Lorraine and I ended the working week looking at my Christmas tree lights, sipping a tot of Greek Metaxa brandy (me) and sloe gin (Lorraine) as Calliope batted a bauble around the floor.

All well.

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