It’s been one of the those weeks. Things seem somehow slightly misaligned. Lord Levy has been away on business trips and so the house has been very quiet. And also very light as I have to sleep with the landing light on. Tori, after the Cadillac of booster injections has somehow managed to catch a cold and is feeling very sorry for himself.

And me? Well, I’m working through my writing course and finding it a bit of a struggle. The course itself is interesting. There are lots of great tips and advice from established writers, the content is easy to digest and the example passages are enjoyable. I’ve worked through everything meticulously, have had lots of ideas and inspiration but when it comes to writing them down – nothing. The words don’t come. In fact I can’t even think of how to round off this post.

We went to see Cloverfield on Sunday. I didn’t know much about it in advance, just that it’s got good reviews. In fact on IMDB it gets a whopping 7.9 out of 10.

I however, did not enjoy the film. The main problem was the use of hand held cameras all the way through. I thought that this worked well in ‘The Blair Witch Project’ but in this film it made me really nauseous. And it wasn’t just down to the bumper bag of Skittle I consumed during the trailers.

That was enough to ruin it for me. But that aside, I couldn’t work out what the monster was doing in New York. I mean for something as big a sky scraper you’d think the Americans would’ve seen it coming. What with their early warning defense systems and all. But maybe I missed something as I looked away to avoid the rainbow of fruit flavours making an encore.

Last Sunday we took down our Christmas decorations. We’d just dragged the reluctant Christmas tree out into the garden, which clung to every door frame, shedding its needles in protest, when the hoover decided to give up the ghost. It brought to mind my first Physics class.

I must have been about 14 at the time and sat earnestly with brand new pens, carefully copying down the homework. In brief, we had to ‘invent something’. In hindsight I totally misunderstood the task and overcomplicated it. As it was Physics (something that still eludes me) I assumed that in order to invent something you had to demonstrate how it works. It caused much anxiety, I can tell you. We didn’t have a copy of the Reader’s Digest’s ‘How to do Just About Anything’ at the time and not being a very practical person I had to keep it simple.

During the next class the teacher went round the room asking everyone to stand up and explain their invention. There were automatic fans and lawn mowers that mowed the grass by themselves and the girl sitting next to me had come up with a computerised hoover. I sat there getting hotter and more flustered until finally it was my turn and I had to explain my invention – a large Christmas tree holder with a ‘lip’ to catch falling needles.

The teacher was very kind of course and mentioned something about it stopping her kittens from getting needles stuck in their paws but I felt more than a little stupid and also totally cheated. I mean this was meant to be Physics. Creating things from the imagination was English, much more my territory. And had I known that you didn’t have to have the slightest clue as to how the invention worked I would’ve come up with something much better than a computerised hoover. Say for example a robotic man-servant who could hoover the floor, mop the kitchen and re-grout the bathroom tiles. Or an automatic ironing machine with optional plug-in to wash the pan that doesn’t fit into the dishwasher.

The super duper Christmas tree holder would’ve come in handy last Sunday though. We’ll still be picking needles out of our socks in August.

So I guess it’s New Year then.  And what happened to the promised snow?  A few half hearted flakes and then nothing.  Just cold and rain and rain and cold.  Did I mention that I hate January?  Well, fingers crossed for the second cold snap later in the month.

Normally I’m not a resolution-making kind of a person.  If something’s worth doing it’s worth doing anytime, not just post-Christmas.  But over the last few months things have kind of crept up on me and so this year I’m falling in with tradition.  And in the hope that my good intentions don’t fall on the ‘ghost of resolutions past’ scrap heap, I’m posting them here so that you can bear witness.

1.  Lose weight.  Yes, that old chestnut. 

2.  Give up booze.  This is going to be a long and wretched month.

3.  Complete a writing course.  This is one resolution that I’m looking forward to.  I’ve already registered and paid for the course which starts in February.  So full steam ahead on that one.

4.  Work less hours and earn more money.  Last year saw the debut of the 75-hour week, which is partly responsible for resolutions 1 and 2.  This year, with more staff and better organisation I’m planning on more free time.

5.  Reduce stress.  This is not going to be an easy one, given resolutions 1 and 2.

6.  Get something published.  There. I said it.  So the pressure’s on for resolution 3.

I know that they say you have a better chance of success if you tackle one issue at a time, but I’m more of an ‘all or nothing’ kind of a gal.  And really, if I undertake all of the above one by one, this is going to take much longer than a year.  Nope, let’s get it over and done with in one fell swoop.

Oh, and another thing.  I don’t start until Monday.  I’m back at work then and it’ll give me time to eat the rest of the Christmas chocolates and specialty cheeses.  And drink the Cava I’m about to buy.

I don’t like New Year’s Eve. I’ve always found it to be depressing. To begin, it’s the end of Christmas. The decorations come down shortly after and it’s back to work again. And January is a miserable month.

I know that’s it’s all about fresh starts and new resolutions but at midnight I always think about the previous year. This year will be particularly sad because my father died a few months ago. Grief is a funny thing. The pain of it is physical and you think you’ll never get over it. When the rawness subsides you’re left with a numbness that is somehow worse. Then one day you realise that you haven’t thought about him for a few a hours and you feel guilty and long for the sharp pain again. A few days slip by and then a week and then months and you just want to claw them all back because you don’t want it to be months since he was here.

So tonight when the ball drops I’ll think of my dad. And tomorrow I’ll say, my father died last year.

It’s Christmas Eve.  The presents are all wrapped, the house is gleaming and all is calm.  I used to hate Christmas Eve as a child.  I became so excited that I just couldn’t sleep and the night stretched out and went on and on . . . .  I was always the first up on Christmas morning because I hadn’t slept a wink.  My mum used to give me a time limit.  I couldn’t wake her until 7.00. 

I’d go into my sister’s room at 5.00 in the morning and whisper, ‘Are you awake?  Cas, are you awake?’  And she’d reply, ‘I bloody am now.’  We’d play board games until it was time to get up.  One year I even put the clocks forward an hour.  Worked like a charm but note, this can only be used once.

Now I’m all grown up I quite like Christmas Eve.  I still get excited but somehow manage to contain myself and get a good nights sleep.   We still get up early on Christmas morning to open the presents, though Lord Levy pretends to object. 

If you’re reading this tonight, have a very merry Christmas.  And turn off your bloody computers, crack open the wine and watch some Christmas telly. 

And mum and Cas, calloo callay – sleep tight, I’ll phone you in the morning.