Nothing ever burns down by itself

You know, I should drink more wine and do less whining. The offspring duly arrived, as did plumbing S (so I could have someone of my own age to play with) and saxy C. The food was *great* - M's amazing eight-dish-curry-extravaganza followed by my first ever bread and butter pudding made with left over pannetone from Up North. And eight egg yolks. And half a pint of double cream. All accompanied by much Prosecco and Gewurtztraminer. Since knowing plumbing S I am strictly old world in my white wine taste.

But at the end of the day I'm still grumpy, and now they've all gone or gone to bed. I started the clearing up in a Bad Mood, but then I remembered Chumbawamba. And that we don't have any next door neighbours at the moment. As my dad would say, WAHEY MOHAMMED! And as I would say, every fire needs a little bit of help.


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joella

Three ships on Christmas Day...

Three ships on Christmas Day...
Originally uploaded by joellaflickr.

Okay, I'm feeling marginally less grumpy now. Lytham was a very beautiful place to spend Christmas. We had a scary foggy walk back down the Green on Christmas Eve after a gorgeous dinner with N&D (photo on Flickr), and we went out for a lovely walk down the front on Christmas Day, witnessing the most amazing winter sunset.

I miss this view like crazy. And it was lovely to see my family. And we had lots of fantastic food and drink. But I don't miss living at home - it's a little too regimented, a lot too smoky and nobody would come for a walk with us. They see the view every day, so what's special about Christmas? Well, I said, it's a Christmas walk, that's what's special. But no. So it got surprisingly claustrophobic for a big house.

Now we are back home waiting for the offspring of M to arrive... two out of three are about four hours late, having been roped into NYE preparations by his ex-wife on the only day in the entire festive season they were due to spend with him.

Next year we are definitely going to be far far away. Well, I am anyway. Somewhere they don't have sprouts.

joella

the earth is moving

Today it took us SIX HOURS to get back from Lancashire. I hate travelling at Christmas. In fact let's be honest... I just hate Christmas. I love my family and I think spending time with them is both important and desirable, but why do it at Christmas? Why, when it comes to it, do anything at Christmas beyond renting a stack of DVDs, buying in a shedload of quality food and drink and unplugging the phone? That's what I'd really like to do.

Actually, even that's a lie. What I'd REALLY like to do is exactly what I did do two years ago, and that's head to another continent where Christmas doesn't mean all that much. And that's what I'm doing next year. M and I sealed the deal around junction 17 on the M6.

BUT there was a big mitigating factor this Christmas, which is that my lovely parents and my lovely boyfriend clubbed together for Christmas and birthday and GOT ME A LAPTOP. From which I am posting right now for the first time. From the sofa. In the living room. In my house.

Old news for many, but a life changing thing for me. joella could be entering a whole new era. Let's make like Madonna and sample shamelessly...

I'm so excited
And I just can't hide it
I'm about to lose control
And I think I like it

joella

Happy Christmas!

Happy Christmas!
Originally uploaded by joellaflickr.

Mere self-pleasuring

Originally uploaded by joellaflickr.

On Saturday night we went to see The Ice Garden, an exhibition which is part of Cape Farewell. Suffice to say, we're all going to hell, and it isn't going to be freezing over any time soon.

Actually, it doesn't quite suffice to say that, for we need to acknowledge that we are only human and we are limited in all kinds of ways, some beyond our control. For an eloquent elaboration, see Ian McEwan's piece on the Boot Room, written after his trip to the Arctic.

Later we saw the Quidams, but it was too chaotic and too cold for something which demanded significant whimsy to appreciate. Instead we went back for another pint of Rudolph's Revenge in the King's Arms, then on for a curry at the wildly psychedelic India Garden, where debate (on the environment, on trade justice, on all sorts) heated into a veritable mushroom cloud.

I need such debate at the moment, as I feel my political axes are shifting and I am not quite sure how or why. I am not even sure if I am becoming more or less radical, or more or less cynical. Funny times.

More beer, more art, more talking. That's what I need. (But isn't that mere self-pleasuring? -Ed)

joella

The end of the party

I have just emerged from the Work Christmas Do. I am pleased with myself for several reasons.

1. I went in the first place, as the sole representative of my team.
2. I paid attention to the dress code, and went in colourful carnival gear.
3. I did not mix my drinks, and stuck to Jack Daniels and soda all night.
4. I alternated said Jack Danielses with water, or at least crunched up the ice before ordering more Jack Daniels.
5. I tried to leave at midnight.
6. I accepted failure gracefully and stayed for another.
7. I *did* leave at 12.45.
8. I got a taxi home instead of walking as I was by myself and it is also Bastard Cold.
9. I didn't stop for chips.
10. I discovered potato cakes in the fridge that I had bought earlier at Tesco.

All in all, apart from the samba band that outstayed their welcome and the fact that nothing can change the reality that I have a team meeting at 9.30 tomorrow, it was a lot more successful than many previous Christmas Dos. In particular, I do not expect to wake up tomorrow with Unidentified Party Bruises.

joella

Secret magic

Magdalen College's Christmas tree
Originally uploaded by joellaflickr.

Hidden behind gates in Oxford are many of the reasons for its greatness.

I am big on magic right now because I have *finally* finished Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell.

joella

Before I forget...

diamanda galas
Originally uploaded by Jeremy Dennis.

My ATP highlight was Diamanda Galas. Ms Y, sitting next to me, was not impressed, and quite soon wandered off in search of cider. M was also not sure. What do you like about her, he asked.

Well, I said, that's what it quite often sounds like inside my head. She's like walking down the middle of a main road late on a Friday night when you're out of your head.

Just because I don't do that anymore doesn't mean I don't want to sometimes. I must get myself some DG albums so I can walk down the middle of a main road in the privacy of my own room.

joella

Winter wedding in Paris

The happy couple
Originally uploaded by joellaflickr.

The bride was radiant in cherry red, and the groom wore grass green. What cool friends I have.

Other highlights of the weekend included following F (leader of Team Bellybutton, which constituted us, him and his small children) from the Eurostar to the hotel via the Centre Pompidou and the Restaurant Chartier; walking from E&W's flat to the Mairie in the 14th Arondissement with the wedding party (in fact we were one big wedding party); profiteroles and champagne for lunch while discussing Chinese neocolonialism in Africa with the splendidly elegant V; eating takeaway quiche (how v French) in the late afternoon stretched across a hotel bed with A drinking plonk out of toothglasses; listening to E&W's gorgeous opera singer friend singing songs of Lurve late at night in their flat with a tiny view of the Eiffel Tower if you stand on the right bit of the balcony... and walking back to the hotel in the early hours singing Billy Bragg songs for the non-delectation of the neighbours.

Sunday was quite grim thanks to all the above, with the exception of finding a bus to take us to the Gare du Nord so we could a) avoid the Metro with hangovers and b) see the Seine and other splendid sights in the beautiful benign winter sunshine. We also got a lovely bowl of buttery pasta and glass of vin rouge from C&F on return to Oxford.

I feel like a hungover fat dobber (carrying on last weekend's theme), but what a great way to end up with that feeling. What swell parties they both were.

joella

Return to Camber Sands

All Tomorrow's Parties
Originally uploaded by joellaflickr. Better viewed large.

ATP's Nightmare before Christmas was certainly a weekend to remember. In particular, we will remember not to drink Cava and Tabasco cocktails again, and the gin-soaked Jaffa cakes turned out not to be the best idea either. But there were many many fine experiences, some musical, some not.

Of which more later: gas bills, local newsletters, screen acres of email and plumbing classes all stand in between me and my urge to document... Meanwhile Jeremy's spooky black and white photos are lovely.

joella

The festive season starts here

Tomorrow we are off to the Nightmare Before Christmas. After a long term's plumbing and a couple of weeks best behaviour in New Job I feel I need to let my hair down and stop making sense.

We had an excellent chalet bonding/planning meeting last week, which was valiantly minuted by Ms Y, who has produced a detailed list of provisions and accessories and allocated them to people.

I therefore know that it is up to me to bring a cafetiere, celeb mags and Sos Mix, but that I need not worry about air freshener, iPod speakers, hairdryer, bath mat or Trivial Pursuit, for someone else is taking care of those.

Let's just hope it stops raining and goes back to being bleak midwinter, for that will be more fun on the beach...

joella