Season's Greetings

It's been a funny old week. Tidying up all the loose ends at work before the break (i.e. doing everything I've been putting off since January in a state of mild panic), getting ready for Christmas - all that. This, coupled with the sudden appearance on my work internet connection of the dreaded WebMarshal, means that I haven't been about so much. So if I normally comment on your blog but haven't for a bit it doesn't mean I don't love you any more, it just means I'm too fucking scared to upload anything from my work PC for fear of getting Dooced. And since I do most of my blogging from work, I haven't really posted either. I would apologise, but do you really expect me to do this on my own time? Would you? I didn't think so.

So, with all this in mind, I think it's time to shut up shop for Christmas. I demand that everyone has a fabulous time; that those of you who drink do it to excess, and that those of you who don't eat twelve extra sausage rolls instead. I want to you to eat too much, drink too much, play stupid party games and bicker incessantly with your close family. Let's have Scrabble, and too many Quality Street, and tears before bedtime brought on by too much cherry brandy and a slightly crap present from your significant other. In short, have a fucking marvellous one and I'll catch up with you on January 3rd*.

Carry on.

* Probably. If I can be arsed**. You might wish I hadn't bothered - January is the Month of Staying In and Detoxing. Stop yawning at the back.

** Oh, come on. Who am I kidding? I'm too needy to even stay away that long.