My whisky glass wants not for a top up, and Shane McGowan and Kirsty MacColl serenade me for the first time this year. On a chair behind me sleeps the cat. Aside from the two of us, the house is empty. I decided against a tree in the end. My presents sit in a pile behind the chair the cat sleeps on. There are four, and I know what three of them are. I still leave them unopened. They're there for the morning.
It's quite a shift going from The Pogues and 'Fairytale…' to The American Boy Choir singing 'Once in Royal David's City', but it seems right. The organ kicking in in the latter lifts in much the same way as the rapid duet in the former.
It's a strange Christmas this year, but that's ok. I don't quite know what I expected. I don't really know if I expected anything.
That's a lie. When you don't really expect anything, you expect everything and are just curious as to which eventuality pops up.
Happy Christmas, folks. hope it's a good one.