31st December. Care Home Cold War.

Mother wasn't sure if it was New Years Eve or New Years Day when I talked her into coming out in my brothers car.

It was a relief to get her away from trading insults across the residents lounge with 'That Welsh Bitch'.

The Welsh woman refered to has very acute hearing unlike Mother whose hearing aid is away getting serviced presently.

This means that any comments or asides from Mother are broadcast not only to 'That One Over There' but indeed the whole room.

"She's getting herself disliked." says my brother.

29th December. A Private Function.

The annual private function in the Claustrophobic Bar passed off surprisingly without any illness on the pavement unlike last year.

This informal get together is based loosely around attendance at the High School in the mid 1970's or having once owned a motorbike.

"You feel you can relax, there's no pressure to make conversation, not like other parties" said F, "You could just sit in a corner and say nothing if you wanted."

Instead F. sat in front of the open window alternately stripping his fleece off talking about sweating then putting it back on and talking about the draught, before announcing that "Someone had farted."

Long standing acquaintance only highlights just how little scope for real change exists within the human psyche.

28th December. The Silicone Rubber Diaries.

Anyone could have told you that silicone rubber doesn't bond to anything with bitumen in it, in fact I could have told myself but I didn't bother.

It never even occured to me when Ms. S. texted yet again on Boxing Day to ruin my xmas by informing me that water was 'pouring' through the living room ceiling and could I come and fix it 'tomorrow', no didn't register at all.

It was only when I was stood looking at the specific non-adherence that, doh...

Either the silicone dissolves the roofing felt or the roofing felt dissolves the silicone and an unholy goo is created.

I thought maybe I should compile a handy list of these sort of details that need to be remembered like 'Detail No. 1573 Ensure car is in neutral before turning ignition key.' or No 2764 When grilling bacon remember to switch off grill...

27th December. St Trinians - In Depth Review.

Due to yet another mix-up concerning 'I am Legend', which is probably crap as well, otherwise why did they take it off Screen 1? We ended up with St Trinians the choice of either Stuart or the man at the ticket desk who hadn't seen it either.

This film is a chronic waste of British acting talent and an insult not only to the intelligence but everything else as well.

The Director should be put on the child sex offender register then named and shamed.

I quite fancied the one with the dark hair that had the make-over with the suspenders.

I can't for the life of me see what Stuart saw in that specky geeky one with the red hair.

Even Isabelle said it was a 'bit crap'.

25th December. A Christmas Carol.

By formal request a new territory to the south has been opened up to visitors today, namely the Lounge room.

Isabelle's job of decorating the Christmas tree was much simplified since it's already been up for two and a half years.

The clearing of the way to the setee revealed certain evidence of the more unnattractive aspects of the Domestic cat's digestive process.

And not a moment to soon, the fire had been lit, there was a surprise knock on the door, who could that be on Christmas morn'?

Non other than Old Al and P, over from the ever warmer Andalucia, Old Al eschews most if not all of the Yuletide traditions - "Bah! Humbug!"

"Tell us what time you're going to eat, then we'll know when to leave."

24th December. Do They Know It's Christmas Time At All?

Reports from the care home are that Mother along with most of the other residents have been struck down with one of these Winter Vomiting/Diarrhea deals.

This will have further adding to the laundry and the workload for the staff over the festive period. A ban has been placed on visitors.

Thus I have been rather neatly absolved from the Long Drive until further notice.

23rd December. Welcome to Bethlehem.

"I can't believe they'd actually get a real camel into the foyer of the concert hall" I said as we queued up outside in the bitter weather along with mainly believers, i would guess.

"D'you think they're deliberately keeping everyone waiting outside just to impress on them how much Jesus suffered?" I thought aloud, as we gradually approached the mock Roman census.

To be fair we were really only there as a pre-pizza rendez-vous with F&D, who are keen to emphasise the 'true meaning of Christmas' on young L.

To be honest what this amounts to is a mix up over the Hebrew word for Maiden and the shortest day previously falling on the 25th prior to the reform of the Julian Calendar.

20th December. "Couldn't Organise a Piss-up In A Brewery."

The entire restaurant had been booked for one party, obviously this was the wrong restaurant, or the wrong day because it was the right time?

The cinema wasn't even showing the film because it wasn't yet on general release, which was strange.

As there was only one cinema either the town was wrong or again it has to be the wrong day but I'm sure it was a Thursday when I checked.

There had to be a simple explanation.

Right time, right place, right day - errr... wrong week.

19th December. Beavers.

I've been drafted in to Mains of Beaverton to put right a faulty installation, more or less a mercy mission to bring warmth and Pre Christmas cheer, to Ms.M.the tenant.

The Landlord was credited with reintroducing the Beaver to this neck of the woods. On the approach to the house I was able to view some of their unnofficial handiwork, As Jeff Goldblum said "Life will find a way..."

As varmints go the Beaver is quite pesky once it gets it's teeth into a tree, imagine being able to bite a tree trunk.? They seem to go about taking mouthfuls here and there like mice in a potato store.

Anyway Ms. M. said she'd found out quite a lot about the Beaver on the internet,

"Course you've got to be careful when you put the word Beaver into any search engine, some guy at the Hydro-Board lost his job for doing that."

17th December. Have You Got Room For That Aga?

"It doesn't seem to matter what I do..." said Mr A. pulling the large double-doored fridge freezer which was on wheels, out of the way, "...My wife is very messy."

The removing of the large kitchen appliance revealed a detritus of fragmented toys, fossilized foodstuffs, crayons and fluff, I made my way round the laundry basket then negotiated more incomplete toys in the hall then a minefield of bicycles at the front door to get some tools.

I know how he feels, I mused, but really the only solution is to hire a 12 cubic yard maxi skip then fill it up with roughly 70 to 80% of the house contents without allowing any sentiment to cloud judgement.

Mrs A. exposes the fallacy which Isabelle subscribes to - "There's not enough space, if we had a bigger house..."

Mrs A. has had a full three storeys to fill up and has managed that quite well in less than five years.

16th December. The Return.

Rather than congratulating me on the wellbeing of the budgies or any number of cats Isabelle makes a bee-line straight across the kitchen to embrace that malingering chicken.

"What's wrong with him? his comb's all dark! have you been feeding him?"

"Well I haven't actually seen it eating much but it must be, because it's still pooing everywhere."

"He's starving hungry! you've got to hold him still or he falls over backwards......"

Suddenly Stuart's suggestion of putting it outside for the night when it was -6 C. seem like the words of a sage.

15th December. What We Think People Think.

In the local shop waiting in line for one of two women at the checkout with a pound of mince and Burgen Soya and linseed bread - I make a conscious decision.

One woman, the sort that calls you 'Love' or 'Sweetheart or 'Pet', from previous experience definitely thinks I'm not the full shilling.

So I'm going to make an effort to be relaxed, light, chatty, vaguely normal, despite labouring under the negative projection of her own ghastly unconscious mind.

"That's two pounds thirteen, love"

I produce a handful of change in a grimy hand and count it.

"You've given me one pound thirty two.' she intones.

Somehow I have mistaken a twentypence piece for a pound coin...

(Definitely not the full shilling that guy.)

14th December. Chicken Tourettes.

Isabelle is away and I've been given full responsibility for the various livestock including several which are challenged on the defecatory front.

Tigger the paraplegic cat and that mental chicken which has become habituated to the kitchen and spends most of it's time trying to control some sort of tic it's developed in it's neck region.

Actually I thought it was going to manage to wring it's own neck the way it's been going on - the self-dispatching chicken?

People can't understand why when Isabelle's away I don't quietly terminate one or both, fake an accident or simply say that Tigger must have escaped.

That chicken could form the basis of something with noodles or perhaps a curry?

I could even keep some over to heat up in the micro for Isabelle's return.

13th December. A Non-Starter.

I first viewed the job for Ms. S. (SWF N/K N/S GSOH) months ago and over this period I've had many extended conversations about stoves etc. She also occasionally leaves messages detailing variious aspects and even hand delivered the proposed plan one night.

Did this installation really warrant such a degree of discussion with me?

Ms. S. is 'well spoken' and sounds a bit breathy like that woman that reads the traffic updates on Radio 2 having what would be generally considered a 'sexy voice', nice to listen to.

Recently Ms S.'s voice had become decidedly sexier, conspirational even, as if imparting information that was for no one elses ears.

The reason for this proved to be a bad case of laryngitus, then she let slip she'd have to give me the front door key because she was going away with her 'boyfriend' for the weekend...

Well as a sideline in matchmaking I was on the point of putting Stuart's name forward as a romantic interest, tch, tch, tch...

12th December. Nice and New.

No mention of yesterdays fantastic levitation only a request to wear those blue plastic bags over one's boots - of couirse it's the oak flooring.

Honestly, you can see now the level of consternation that would have met a dent in that particular floor.

Minimalism, open plan and newness conspire badly against the tradesman both in terms of how things are 'going to look' and the very unwelcome dust and mess.

Why do they pretend to themselves that they're going to keep it all new looking for eternity?

If they're still together after fifteen years will it look new then? Will she have thrown crockery across the open plan kitchen/ living room, missing him but hitting the woodwork.?

As a general rule, if a couple have spent money on a kitchen worktop custom made in one piece they are probably mental.

I don't know how they can bring themselves to piss in the designer toilet and dirty it.

11th December. Impressing An Attractive Blonde With An Apparent Feat of Strength.

"I don't know how 'He' expects you to get that on it's stand." said the young-ish and attractive Ms. C. before leaving for work in a sports car attired in a suit.

Ms.C. was refering to the stove, weight 142kg according to the installation book, which had to somehow defy gravity and levitate two feet in the air coming to rest gently on it's purpose made pedestal.

"I'll cross that bridge when..."

Having attended to other concerns that 'He" had been getting in a tiz about, the afternoon saw me faced with the levitation problem.

Dismantling bits off the thing in an attempt to lose some weight still saw it resolutely stuck to the new oak floor.

That's when I turned to the Wisdom of the Ancients, did the Egyptians have an extra-terrestrial helping hand when they lifted the blocks of stone to build the Pyramid of Cheops?

No, they used an inclined plane.

Piiling up some unopened packs of parquet flooring and resting a plank on them gave the suitably inclined plane.

All that remained was to drag the monster up the plank without dropping it onto the new oak floor, a dent would be very unimpressive.

So there it was in place and reassembled, with the plank gone like an earth ramp from a Pyramid, the question would always remain "HOW THE HELL...?"

8th December. "Donald Where's Your Fingers?"

Discussion turned to a lifetime working as a forester and the dangers of the job, what with chainsaws, falling trees, rolling logs etc

"I've had a few frights, I can tell you." said Donald.

Now there are always things you're not meant to do but then you get away with it innumerable times and there appears to be vitrually no risk...until...

"I was letting the wire rope from the winch run through my hands when a bit of jagged wire caught my glove and pulled one hand into the winch and the wire crushed my fingers against the drum."

"Are you right-handed?"

"Yes, so I turned the winch off with my other hand, pulled the glove off, just through it on the ground, didn't think anything of it, there was blood everywhere. It was only when I got to the hospital I realised my index finger was inside the glove, by then it was too late."

6th December. More Money.

I'm afraid the Apple died recently. "It's a great computer the Apple, the weak spot is the hard drive" says the repair man who is charging us.

That's a bit like saying the weak spot of the human ear is the ear drum.