Electro-clash isn’t what it used to be

Sorry to my remaining readers, but periods of silence are going to become a new feature of my blogging, like baubles on the poor murdered trees of London, they will shine through my normal twiggy and pine scented posts. Well, that analogy didn't work. I will try harder in future.

Christmas is gearing up, the Thames is blending into the grey of the sky, and, on the other side of the world, bush fires are causey Merry Christmas havoc in the hills of Victoria. Cause it is so hard to imagine the threat faced by my parents at the moment, my head is having a fun time dreaming nightmares about bushfires instead. Thank you head, you are very helpful.

Today I have a Christmas team lunch at “Balls Brothers” (ahem!), followed by the Christmas party on Thursday night, a four day break in New Forest, then, when I have just removed all hope of ever fitting back into my pants, the group Christmas party the following Thursday. Then, by this time almost redundant, Christmas itself gets a look in. I fear for my britches and their fragile stitches.

In other news, my housemate fell down the stairs the other day, my sister woke to find a tomato under her pillow, and Arcade Fire tickets for three concerts in the New Year sold out in less than 5 minutes on Friday much to concern, bemusement and chagrin respectively.

Hope you are all eating nearly as much as I am, especially those of you placed conveniently as counterweights elsewhere in the world. We don’t want to go affecting its spin, now, do we?