Things are looking up, I’m starting to feel nervous excitement, it’s a new year! 26 days to go!
Cookie and Jo have a baby girl, Charlotte, and I got to tell Cookie he wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep for at least the next eleven years, har har har. He says he’s not letting her out until she’s twenty-four, and she won’t be allowed a boyfriend until she’s thirty-two. Sounds firm but fair.
The USA ups its measly initial contribution to the aid effort in South East Asia. The DEC gets so many donations, immediately after Christmas, that it makes you proud to be British. I haven’t heard that sodding Band Aid song in a week. Woo woo!
The Aidcamp is still going ahead. The charity that Aidcamps is involved with in India, SCAD, is assisting with the relief efforts in the disaster area of Tamil Nadu. I was given a very kind donation of a shed load of antibiotics by the family vet the other day, and even though the antibiotics are veterinary, they’re still good for human use and will hopefully come in useful in treating the homeless in the emergency camps. I may also be able to offer my help, but we’ll have to see – it just seems to make sense to help if I’m there and have the time to give.
Things I won’t miss about the UK (but can’t be certain of getting away from):
- UK politics – caught between the devil and the deep blue C, Labour and Blair in particular misinterpret widespread apathy and the death of the Tory party as a mandate to do what they please, including turning the UK into a clone of the US, a politically correct branch of Starbucks, where smoking, smacking obnoxious children and eating chocolate-covered salty lard are outlawed.
- Reality TV. Abi Titmuss is a tough cop / doctor who hopes to increase the value of her home by redecorating it with the help of Linda Barker, Handy Andy and Ant and Dec, winning new cans of paint by eating bug shit in a deep hole in the jungle, duetting with Peter Andre, and having a fight with Sharon Osbourne. Bleargh. Rubbish.
- UK Newspapers. Many of these rags, self-appointed guardians of our collective moral conscience, seem to have limitless power to expose, embarrass, plague and pester whoever they please, this persecution masquerading as a public service, and yet people keep buying them.
- The price of trains. On what planet does it make sense that it costs less to fly to Talinn than it does to get the train to Leeds?
- Rubbish celebrities. Overexposed, overpaid, undertalented, and still they whinge about how bad their life is as they whore themselves at film premiers, stick enough cocaine up their nostrils to down a rhino, stumble out of bars at 3am shouting at photographers, and blag free vol-au-vents at charity events. If you don’t like your life, bugger off and get a real job.
- Football. Footballers. Football managers. Football programs. Footballers’ Wives.
- Did I mention Football?