Despite being one third of the way into December, it's only just dawned on me that it's Christmas very soon. In, like, 15 days. All the music channels on telly are rotating their crappy Christmas songs playlists - which, as they've got so much airtime to fill, are at least throwing up some amusingly bad, previously forgotten festive tunes. Paul McCartney and the fucking Frog Chorus, anyone? I saw it yesterday afternoon for the first time in 25 years and remembered exactly why it's never included on cheapo Chrimbo compilation CDs - even in a genre so pant-wettingly mawkish and feeble as christmas singles, it has a level of awfulness that stands proudly alone. Shudder. Next to this, Cliff Richard's seasonal efforts are verging on a punk ethic.
Anyway, Christmas. Shit! I've barely done a thing about it, what with one thing and another. Must knuckle down and get organising. Unfortunately, this week is already stacked full of Christmas parties and a slew of work to finish off. Who in the name of God decided to put our works Xmas party on the night before a big deployment? (Maybe it's the other way around - even so, someone needs a poke in the eye with a sharp stick).