That time of year

Well, actually it's the time of year for driving home from work with a thumping headache, a seriously malfunctioning throat and idly wondering what expensive bit of my house my erstwhile lodger Luke Turdwalker* has seen fit to trash this time. Hey ho, cats are great! For the information of his many tasteful fans, the sensible one, Giz is adding to his mouse total even as we speak, even at this late stage of the year; and has perfected a new dangerous sport of deliberately, nay gratuatously baiting the Alsation across the road and then legging it. A kind of feline game of chicken. Who needs television?

So up and down the country, folks I know are getting ready to seriously party. So am I. Wasn't planning to do it around here, but it's as good a place as any and I've been working far too late to get anywhere else. Just remains for me to say to anyone who's still reading this ramble after all this nonsense a) thanks for your time, have you really nothing better to do ;o) and b) importantly of course, have a great new year, don't do anything I wouldn't, catch you on the flipside.

Hullo to all who've supported, all who've bought beer, all who've encountered me thoughout the year and made it all a little bit more interesting and fun. Kicks in the arse where appropriate for those who deserve 'em too! But in the main, "peace, love and good happiness stuff". See ya's in the next one.



*so named as it remains a mystery to him as to why one who walks in his own shit in the litter tray is not welcome climbing on my kitchen worktops....