Time for a nap...

Time to take a festive break, chill out, relax and enjoy the Christmas happenings. I have been even more pathetic than usual dishing out the cards this year so may I extend my virtual season's greetings to you by way of an apology. To you and the tiny smattering of readers that drive the Killing Time stats, my heartfelt hope is that your dreams for this special time of year - whether you celebrate Christmas or not - become a reality. Have fun. x

Religious Christmas message...

Rumours that we were struck down by lightning following the recent nativity scene abuse are totally unfounded. Just unavoidably drawn away from the blog by work and festive shopping. The former the necessary evil to fund the latter. I had the joy of heading to Argos early this morning to make a final purchase. "Is it a Christmas present?" I was asked. "You'll get fed up of asking that today, won't you? I would think they all will be today." "You're probably right," said the young Argos-tender. Seemingly, the thought that this day might bring out the Christmas shoppers hadn't really struck him. I went in a few other shops and realised that this young chap, in his efforts to talk to me, was actually a rarity. There's a worrying trend, in retail, for those that staff the tills to talk to each other when you're paying for goods. I find it rather annoying that they're not actually giving me any attention when I'm forking out good money for the over-priced shit they're selling. Still, when consumerism and capitalism collapse next year we won't have to worry any more about ignorant, couldn't-care-less sales assistants, will we? Oh, sorry, recession, what recession? Must remember to stay on-message.

Since September 2007 I have been Hull College's Writer in Residence. Which would have been cause for much celebration and a slight increase in my paltry excuse for income if a) I had actually done some writing and b) had I been in residence. Neither of these things occurred, although I refuse to relinquish the swanky job title. If I were to come up with some kind of related New Year's resolution, it's that I actually do something to justify the grandiose position I almost find myself in. I did get a Christmas card from the college, so it would appear that I am still on their radar. If you are a student researching my credentials via Google or some other search engine, do please remind your staff what a wonderful resource I could be.

Tony Blair is now officially a Catholic. Nice that a warmonger (ain't they all?) can take solace in a bit of organised religion and atone for his sins. And it doesn't come much more organised than Catholicism, where they do seem to have the best ceremonies and rituals in the wacky world of Christianity compared to, say, the spit and sawdust efforts of Methodism. As M sides with the Pope I'll be heading to a Catholic church on the morning of Chistmas Day, where I'll be getting my annual fix of Peace be with you and shaking the hands of those around me. Yet I think I have more issues to resolve than TB before I can undergo a conversion. Politics and religion, what am I thinking? It would be nice, would it not, if we could have a PM that was, say, a Hindu, a Candomble or a member of the Bahá'í faith. Just for a change. Is that more or less likely than Nick Clegg moving in to No 10?

Nativity scene...

If you had a one month old baby and just happened to stumble across a nativity scene in a hospital (God bless the NHS, I say) then this is the kind of fun you could have. We stopped short of moving the baby Jesus and replacing Him with Finn as a security guard was watching us closely. Mind, we did make him chuckle. The security guard, that is, not Jesus. Keen observers will note that Finn did not react kindly to these iconoclastic shenanigans.