I've had a hugely productive start to 2009, having spent up until 5.30 pm this evening lazing on Gaz's bed watching Billy Madison (bizarre but enjoyable Adam Sandler comedy) and then a several hour marathon of 'How Clean Is Your House?' the answer by many to which is 'Not very at all - I am a dirty bastard.' It inspired discussion between me and Gaz regarding why people chose to live in such squalor.

"That man clearly spends so much time wanking he doesn't have time to clean his house."

"Yeah, he should pick up a hoover instead of his cock once in a while!"

If you think that's bad then you don't want to hear what we had to say about the woman who kept her cutlery in the toothbrush holder or the man with E coli under his wedding ring. Gag.

I can't believe Christmas and the holidays have all but been and gone and I'm going back to London in two days' time. Astonishingly I've been busy every single day since Christmas Eve (divorced parents means two Christmases and yadda yadda). It's actually felt like a holiday and I feel very relaxed from it as a result. I'm sure I would have a 'holiday glow' look about my face but the mixture of wine, WKD and cider I quaffed last night puts paid to that for the time being.

So last night was spent at Tori and Pete's for a Guitar Hero party. Perfectly good way to spend New Year's Eve, although at the exact stroke of midnight for some reason Pete and I were in the kitchen chatting about our impending tax bills, seeing how we're both freelancers, and I only realised we'd floated from one year to another when Gaz came and found me to kiss me.

Christmas Eve was the most memorable day of the past while. Pub with Katie, my brother Adam and a big group of our old school chums. All good larks, as it is every year. Unfortunately Adam has been getting over flu and opted to come home around 11.30 pm. I was getting a lift with him, off Paul R-P, but was feeling pretty ker-nackered anyway so didn't mind leaving before midnight. We dropped my brother back then all of a sudden I perked up and it seemed stupid to call it a night when Christmas was less than half an hour away.

And thus we went for a drive around and ended up attempting to attend Datchworth Village Church's midnight mass some five minutes late. Emphasis on the late there please. I really, genuinely wanted to go to mass and sing hymns in a beautiful church, but because we hadn't arrived in a timely manner we opened the door only for a sea of faces to turn and stare bemusedly...well, I say 'bemusedly', but one man's face is etched in my memory as staring at me as if I had just screamed 'Merry Christmas Satan!' We were NOT welcome and promptly made a swift escape with shame burning through us in the manner of the fiery pits of hell. Or some bollocks like that.

We drove around a bit longer before calling it a night and I was dropped off at my welcoming (unlike the church) family home. A short while later I had a text off Paul saying what a great time he'd had with me (a semi-pissed girl in a miniskirt trying to gatecrash a church service does have its own comedic charm) but that he'd 'found it really hard to resist me.' Eh? I definitely wasn't behaving in a manner worthy of resistance so asked him what he meant. I got the following reply:

'I had to fight every urge in my body to not try to kiss you - I'm sorry.'

Yikes!

We did go out together for several months when I was 17-18 (some seven years ago now *sob*) but obviously I've got the new boyfriend (AT LONG BLOODY LAST) and Paul's been in a relationship for God knows how long - at least three years - and is freaking ENGAGED. I was shocked and told him that I would never respond to the advances of an engaged man. He knows and accepts that. I don't know if he's experiencing relationship woes and strife but it's neither my business nor problem.

That Christmas Eve certainly stands out from any other.

What a wafflesome essay I've written. New Year's resolution? Write diary entries at regular intervals in more manageable portions.

Oh, as if I could be that organised.

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