So busy. At work, so busy. And this is Christmas week. I’m supposed to be making sure the house is ready for Christmas Day. Instead I get home and want to sleeeeeep. Or die. Whichever is the least effort. And I’ve started to get cramp in my legs. This is not restful. I feel very run down.

I shall sit and meditate by the tree tonight, breathing in its soothing Christmassy vapours. And I shall rattle presents. I know what’s in them, but nonetheless. Rattle rattle rattle. Ooh, wonder what it is? Oh, yeah, it’s that.

Well, Christmas is pretty much done and dusted. Oh, yes. Shopping? Check. Wrapping of presents? Check. Whacking great tree? Check, checkety check. This is the first proper Christmas tree I’ve had, and Flapjack, too. So we’ve got our first tree together. IYSWIM.

Anyway, we brought it quite a distance. I mean, not Journey of the Magi distance, but a fair bus ride and decent walk from Homebase. No-one batted an eye when I walked onto the bus with a tree taller than I am. This I attribute to it being a Sunday. And then it required sawing! Gah. No-one mentioned sawing. Still, now I know for next year. It’s currently in the corner, unadorned and falling back into its real shape. Bits are falling off! Hey, you bits! Stop falling off! I’m sure this is absolutely normal behaviour for a Christmas tree, but I’m worried about it. I want it to be perfect. It smells nice. This I have found. Fraser Firs smell lovely.

Now I’m on to The Iliad. So the three major reads of this year – that is, books I’ve read for the first time, properly and not just re-read – will have been The Odyssey, The Silmarillion and The Iliad. I have to stop this. Where next? The Old Testament? It’s all HEROES striding around MANFULLY and DECLAIMING at each other. Which is cool, but I think I need a nice, quiet family piece.

In other news – chikkins!

I’m on a bus, sitting at traffic lights. Been here 10 minutes. The reason? The bus driver at the front of the queue needed some time to GROW A PAIR!

Finished The Silmarillion. Bow before me, for I am King Nerd. Okay, okay, I have two pages left, but those are the two pages which detail the War of the Ring, and I think I know how that one turns out..

So, is it any good? Well, you know, it’s not bad. I have left the first half of the book behind me in the mists of memory so the later bits seem pretty rockin’. I thought when I embarked on the journey to the dark heart of Tolkien that it was a book for those who like Elves. No no no. This is a book for those who hate Elves and want to see their pointy-eared faces ground into the dirt at every opportunity. It’s like the Big Book of Elven Smackdowns. If I get round to that potted version you’re all no doubt utterly indifferent about I’ll give you some further detail. Suffice it to say for now that if you’re an Elf with a name which starts “Fin”, you’re not in for a happy time. Or, you know, you might have quite a happy time right up to the point that you’re brutally murdered and your corpse is brutally humped by a thousand orcs.

This has the potential to become a long post, so apologies in advance. Quite important, though, from a long-term point of view, so bear with me, will you?

Whoo, there’ve been a few false starts on this post, let me tell you. Okay, so Flapjack’s big surprise present was a night in a very lovely boutique hotel in The City- I practically guarantee you haven’t heard of it. There was champagne, there were chocolates, there were rose petals strewn on the bed and around the sink, there was a night-light lit…

But I needed to get her there. We went to the Museum of London, which is really quite interesting because we’re both big fans of London (somehow my love of the city is tied in with my love of her). The cafe, however, was a disappointment so we went to the Pizza Express over the road (literally suspended in a bridge) which was fairly deserted and we had a nice meal and talked for ages about stuff, which you don’t do at home so much. I took her in, watched and listened and drew in as much of her as I could manage, knowing what I was to do that evening.

Then we moved on, I took her on the Central Line to Bank. Bank? Why? There’s literally nothing there at the weekend. Or, you know, is there? Turns out there is. Roadworks! They were pouring asphalt all over the place, and we needed to get past. Actually we didn’t. My pulse quickening, I took my chance. “Let’s go round here, then,” I said and took her arm and moved her to the right, into the building we were passing. Kaboom, said the building, here’s my magnificent interior! It’s unexpected. I told Flapjack to take a seat while I checked in.

The room was a suite, beautiful and quirkily shaped. We sat, drank champagne, ate chocolates, I took a bath, we relaxed, chilled out and generally enjoyed each other’s company.

I kissed her, her hair I remember being wet her eyes shining so very blue at me I told her I loved her, she said she loved me too. My swollen heart now bolting for my mouth, my whole world straining to a point, I knew I had to ask “Then..” the pause was a millisecond, but everything stopped for it “will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Good

Bad

Guess which one got an audience of millions during Children In Need*? They’re from Boston, you know, where my parents live. Well, near where my parents live. They’re probably thinking “a bit too near” right now. I can only direct them here. Or possibly here.

*Albeit only for about 15 seconds.

The Silmarils are jewels, okay? There are three of them. They hold the light of the two trees of Valinor. Um-hum. Following me so far? Not difficult, is it?

I have been reading The Silmarillion for two months now. It’s a hell of a slog. It’s not a big book, it’s just a painful book. I’m going to work on a potted version for those who don’t want to read it but would quite like to know the gist. Like those yellow books you have at A-level that tell you what a book is about! I never saw the point. Read that book or read the actual book you are supposed to be read it’s all book learnin’. Unless they’re significantly shorter, like about 2 pages as opposed to 340. I’m going to aim for a few paragraphs.

This is going to sound like my greatest hits- It’s cold and I’m starting to feel ill. Well, anyway. Flapjack’s birthday went off ok yesterday – happy birthday, sweetie – with some good cards, a well-received present from her parents and The Mystery Present from me, which I may tell you about at the end of the month..

So about… oh, I don’t know. Six years ago – maybe – I was stung by a wasp. First time it had happened, which justified, I think, my years of worry about the little stripey shits. Yes, it hurt a lot to be stung on the palm of the hand, and I was extremely proud of myself for not shouting “FUCK!” at the top of my voice in the middle of my place of work. Go me.

Anyway, that’s six years ago, hardly current affairs. Thing is, the spot where I was stung all those years ago (six! Bloody hell, where did the time go? Okay, maybe five. I lose track) has started to hurt again. I’ve got a little hole in my palm in the exact spot I was injured by the stingy bastard, and it’s sort of sore and itchy. And I just squeezed a lemon. Ahhhhhhhooowww…

I’m going to do a spot of redesigning soon, by the way. I’m going to dump the external links page and have it inserted into the main template. Don’t know why, but I am. Going to stop me? No. Good.