This is a vow to post during Christmas.
I got into work an hour ago, updated the horse racing pages and then took to the blogs. I really couldn't be fucked with work when the windchill factor is making me shiver like an unwieldy analogy.
A lot of people saying 'that's it' for the festive period, that they won't be around until the tin of Roses is full of empty wrappers and Coffee Cremes. Bollocks that. I don't know how other people spend their Christmases, but for me it's a quarry of drink, food, Mass avoidance and wishing The Royle Family hadn't disappeared up Caroline Aherne's arse.
Really, it's like every other Sunday with added lightbulbs.
Constantly refreshing the live interweb feed for the football aside (the folks jettisoned their Sky Sports package years ago), I'll have nothing but time for these stylings, such as they are, and reflections on 2009 and all its tribulations.
For me, it comes down to a day in June - the 22nd - as I sat on my own cradling a pint amid the throng in John Mulligan.
"Look at you, all your sisters married and you sat there, sacked."
This from a fellow butchered colleague, gallows humour at its finest.
= = =
A word for Therese, whose blog has been my first port of call of a morning since I discovered it around the Spring. I can't laud the old Ampersand Seven highly enough as she counts down, or up, to this project's conclusion. Looking forward to what comes next.