Every now and again, you see something on the web that makes you stop and think. Not in a political or cultural way, you understand. More in a “my God, I know that person!” kind of way.

This article on the BBC website today about on-line gaming was written by a guy I was in Youth CND with many, many years ago. What a co-incidence! Having just blogged about Youth CND a few minutes ago!

Anyway, Mark, if you happen to read this - good on you! I’m glad that interview in Cardiff to be a journalist all those years ago wasn’t a complete waste of time.

I suppose when I was younger I was always a bit different from the people who populated my small gene pool here in South Wales. Everything I liked, from music, politics, art, fashion, etc. was a bit left-field as far as the rest of my school was concerned. I was lucky, in a way, that I found an outlet with friends in London and from beyond when I started working with Youth CND, but nonetheless, my non-conformity has always followed me around to an extent.

Where was I going with this? Oh yes. I was IM’ing last night with an old mate of mine. He used to be the barman down our local when I was about 16. He did some mean cocktails and with some clever hand action, these never cost me any more than 20p a go. Even in the 1980’s this was cheap. Despite being a barman, he was also one of the most intelligent men I had ever met. Now that’s not meant in a condescending way - but there was always the reputation with most of the barmen down our way that all they wanted was to get into as many pairs of knickers as possible. He was very different to that.

Anyway, we were chatting last night about the usual - politics mainly - and it got me thinking. It doesn’t really matter to me whether the people around me have the same beliefs that I do - rather that they have an opinion, which they’ve thought through. Some of my friends are fairly right-wing, in a fairly non-attractive Conservative way sometimes. Now, I don’t agree with them, but as long as there point is one that they’ve taken to heart, I won’t ever condemn them for it. We have a good old disagreement, but walk away friends.

I don’t know whether this means that I’m growing up or just mellowing out. Either way, I think I like it more.

There is a weirdness about any holiday, when you normally leave the house to go to work five mornings out of seven. It’s like all the days start to blend into each other and you don’t know whether you should be sleeping late, or getting up and doing something more productive instead. Add to that a really miserable cold and you can just about write off the days completely.

I really did have big plans for my days away from the office. I had a list of dozens of things that I wanted to accomplish - especially as I am now doing some freelance writing. The writing itself is fine, but the deadlines seem to haunt me, like an ever present hum in the back of my brain. I also wanted to open up the books that the Open University have sent me for the final year of my degree, as well as getting the financial forecasts for the business completed.

What have I done from this list? Basically bugger all. It hasn’t helped that the other half has been off work as well. It’s not his fault, but I seem to get far less done whilst he is around. I did manage to coax us both to sort out our wardrobes today - a job that should have been done when we came back laden from New York, but was no less important once Christmas presents and some minimal sale shopping had been added to the pile. So, now I’m left with two days before I go back to work - the second of which I am basically hoping to write off due to a stunning hangover, but we’ll see.

Oh well, there’s always January!

I know, it’s disgraceful! The lure of the outside world and I flit off without an entry for ages. There has just been way too much alcohol, food and being invited to impromptu gatherings at peoples houses. Thanks to them all for a really great Christmas.

So, highlights, I suppose. The other half and I don’t give each other presents (there was some really nasty gag about a “selection box” going around on Christmas Eve in the pub, but I really don’t think this is the place to be sharing it!) so there is less room for disappointments and disasters there. We leave the present cock-ups to his family now. This year, his aunty actually bought us an integral radio alarm thing. Not bad you may be thinking, but it also triples up as a toilet roll holder! I mean, honestly…

Lovely gifts from my parents - including a glass kettle, which I’ve wanted for ages. Mentioned it in passing months ago, and had forgotten all about it. Therefore, it was a lovely surprise on the day itself. One of my Aunt’s did her usual trick of recycling all her gifts, with hilarious results. The other half got toffees that were out of date (something I didn’t know was possible) and my mum got Laura Ashley stuff from 1999. It was dated, so there was no way of denying it. I put it down to increasing age - but apparently, mum said, she’s been doing it for the last forty years - who knew?

Other than that, as I said, too much alcohol, and on Boxing Day a surprise package that had travelled with a mate from Worthing. Lets just say, it was a very chilled evening!

One final thing. Man Utd. lost, Liverpool drew. Life is good, and miracles do happen at Chrsitmas!

OK, so today wasn’t all bad. True, Liverpool only drew against Everton (and Gerrard was guilty of a bad studs up tackle, which should have got him sent off - and will mean him getting suspended thanks to video-evidence), but at least Manchester United lost! Went to the pub with my cocky Manc Scum friend, but had the last laugh.

There is something about sitting in a pub on a Sunday afternoon, watching the football with the Observer open in front of you, making idle chit chat with a good friend. No hassle, no forced conversation, just a good game on the telly, a good newspaper in front of you and good company.

Of course, I had a million things I should have been doing, but I’ll worry about those tomorrow.

Talking of trips to Hell, it’s the big derby tomorrow. What do you mean, Man Utd are playing Blackburn? No I mean the Scouse one - Liverpool versus Everton.

During my girlie night in on Wednesday, I had the Liverpool match on in the background. It was tense stuff - but at least we won! Crowing to the boys when I picked them up from the pub (oh, have I mentioned before that I run a one-woman taxi service on a Wednesday night? Very reasonable rates - just the pleasure of having four men smelling of beer in the car - but, my choice of music whilst I drive) was pleasure in itself.

However, tomorrow is a touch and go kind of thing. My Manc Scum mate has offered to watch the match with me at our local. He’s really confident and cocky about it. I’m kind of feeling scared.

I love Troubled Diva. This is one of my must reads every day. His entry for Thursday 19th December had me rolling around. It was just what I needed to get me through the rest of a very boring afternoon in work.

Having worked, when much younger, in a department store, the thought of Christams muzak still sends shivers down my spine. “Last Christmas” came on every 36 minutes, and by the end of the day, I wanted to do unspeakable things to George Michael and not in a sexual way (although…).

Anyway, if Troubled Diva is going to Hell, there are just two things. Firstly, he’s going to have to get an excess luggage allowance for all those shirts and secondly, do you think I could tag along? I’m sure it would be more fun than anywhere else!

OK, so its the week before Christmas. It’s an excuse. The only excuse I can come up with for not having written for almost 7 days! I’ve been busy - you know, things to do and all that. My confidence in having been prepared for Christmas well over a week ago was shattered last Monday and I started my annual panic buying of extra gifts and enough food to feed the five thousand (I think that might be a different Bible story, but there you go - RE was such a non-subject in our school).

So, on Monday, the other half and I did the “dry” shop. That’s actually a bit of a misnomer, as it involves the alcohol for the season, and came to £170 or so (which left other half somewhat tearful and hence not dry at all!). We also bought the goods for his grandfathers Christmas hamper. This all started about 7 years ago, when Grampa first went into sheltered accomodation. He goes to a day centre in the week and has meals of wheels at all other times. Now, he is more than capable of getting some shopping in and cooking meals, but I’ve taken it upon myself, in the absence of an adequate care system over any holiday period, to ensure he has enough e-numbers in the house to keep him going. Hence hitting the till at Morrisons on Monday with tinned spaghetti hoops and enough chocolatey-type cakes to sink a battleship.

The curious thing about Grampa is as well as the old-age ability to ramble for long periods about “what it was like in his day” and come out with some of the most stunningly inappropriate comments (he calls the more attractive of his carers “bits of skirt”!), he has lost the ability to know when to stop eating. You know the scenario, you really want to eat that whole packet of chocolate digestives, but somewhere in your brain a little voice tells you “no”. Well, Grampa’s little voice obviously gave up years ago, or he’s just too deaf to hear it. A few Easters ago, he ate 12 hot cross buns (with butter) in one sitting. I can’t wait to be 81!

The other half went out on Tuesday night, stumbling in around 2.30, lighting the house like Blackpool Illuminations, before falling into the bed, cracking his knee, swearing loudly and then rambling about what a great time he’d had out with his workmates at the local pub and then the curry house. I feel a large Christmas bonus needs to be paid to anyone in our town working on Tuesday of last week. Other half was so well tanked, he must have insulted one, if not all of them.

As a result I planned revenge. After a quiet night in with some of my girl friends (why is it that that always sounds a bit bizarre and pervy when I say it?), whilst he went to the pub AGAIN on Wednesday, I had a somewhat drunken evening on Thursday to make up for it. When I did finally stagger in - and I blame the whiskey that my uncle made me drink whilst delivering his pressie - he made it quite clear that, as he had to get up for work the next day, silence and no cold feet on his backside would have been appreciated. The thought had crossed my mind two nights before.

Being a woman, however, I had to make sure that revenge was complete. After hitting Cardiff with some colleagues from work on Friday, myself and another girl from my home town decided on “one more for the road” when we finally got off the train. I was far more sober - it being a work event, I never have that much in fear of what I might do - but still managed a graceful collapse into the bed, and the cold feet treatment. I think he’s now got the message!

As next week is likely to be liver-damaging, we decided on a quiet night in tonight. Trouble is, at gone 1.30am I’m still wide awake - whilst he’s snoring downstairs. Perhaps that final cup of coffee wasn’t such a good idea.

The other half is as occupied as ever on a Sunday night shift. Hence he has sent me this rather cute albino penguin link. It did make me think that it would be great camouflage if penguins were all albino - although difficult for the parents to find their young in all that snow!

My excuse for posting it? Well, it is Christmas - and I seem to have upset him with my jibe about the lack of enthusiasm for the ferris wheel I bought him (see comments on previous post)!

Just come back from a lovely weekend visiting a mate in Birmingham. We had lots of lovely food (and wine), whilst managing to complete some Christmas (and unrelated shopping).

For anyone going to Birmingham over the coming week, I would really recommend the German Market in the centre. I went there today, and could have easily come back overladen. As it was, I restricted myself to a banana dipped in chocolate on a stick for the other-half and the most beautiful hand-made (and painted) tin, wind up ferris wheel. This was meant to be for the other half, but as his reaction was more muted than I’d hoped, I’ve now decided it’s a gift to myself. It really is lovely - and I couldn’t leave it out in the cold in central Brum! My friend also highly recommended the mulled wine that they serve - but as I was driving back to Wales in the afternoon, I decided against it.

We also ventured to Ikea on Saturday, so that my mate could organise the delivery of some furniture for her workroom/studio at home. Now at this point you may be thinking that this was nothing short of madness. Ikea, a week before Christmas? Surely not! However, I have the solution to Ikea shopping on a Saturday. The store shuts at 7pm and as long as you know what you want, and don’t want to browse the whole store aimlessly, arrive sometime after 5.45pm. There was plenty of room in the car park and no lines at the checkout - bliss! I even managed to pick up some really cheesey cocktail accessories for our next party.

Other than the retail therapy, and returning to my first love (i.e. food) we also had a great curry (God, I’d be a size 30 if I lived in Birmingham - there’s just too much choice!) and my friend cooked a brilliant asparagus, rocket and lemon risotto when I arrived. We were quite good otherwise - although the wine consumption was perhaps a little high. However, I haven’t had a vodka since last Saturday, which has to be some sort of record.

Oh, yes, a PS - you know I’m always on about the rain in Wales? Well, I really think that Birmingham can match it. It was barely dry during my entire visit!