My Best Presents

I always think that the best Christmas presents are those that have required most effort on the part of the purchaser; and so it is this year for me. It might not seem too difficult for Mrs C to have popped into HMV and selected a CD but I know how it hurt to buy me this one. We have a debate in our house that has almost ended in sulks as I have staunchly defended Amy Winehouse. On one side of the dining table we have my sons and wife who consider her to be a spoilt, drug addled wreck fit only for stepping over in the street; on the other side we have me.

I don't know what it is, but I do seem drawn to the work of damaged people like her: Dylan Thomas and John Martyn are two more of my favourites, both alcohol and drug victims I keep having to defend to people. What is it about addiction that makes us rail against one type but accept another (nicotine vs alcohol for example). Perhaps we don't like the idea that we could all find ourselves at the mercy of something beyond our control - now there's a subject for a future blog post.

Back to Black is a stunningly good album especially if you have the two CD version with the stripped down versions of Valerie, Monkey Man and others. My neighbours will soon be sick of me walking the dog singing unrestrainedly with my MP3 player (a present from my sons that they are now regretting!); you should hear me doing Valerie (no pun intended for those who know Mrs C!).

Talking of alcohol abuse it's nearly New Year and although I don't like it - I think it's a completely nonsensical, arbitrary celebration - I wish you all a very happy one.

My Friday Achievement

Sat in Evuna - a pleasant Spanish Restaurant on Deansgate last night - I was pleased with the fact I'd actually arrived only thirty five minutes late for my colleagues retirement meal. Determined to enjoy what has become a rare night out I pitched myself headlong into the tapas and seafood paella with gusto. Similarly I quaffed the proffered wine with similar enthusiasm equally determined to face down the 'old man' image that seems to hover around me lately. Then in the Grapes I got stuck into fizzy lager beer, hurriedly washed it down in time to catch the nine o'clock train to Oldham.

Street cleaners in the subway from Oldham Mumps station would have cursed at the results of my later gastric incontinence this morning. Yes, I achieved the same results from a night out as either of my two sons do....I've not lost it yet!

I don't quite feel like the drive up to Keswick now though...me and Mrs C are going away for a week. By until next week when I promise to feel better.