Univited

Really failing to the get into the whole Xmas thing this year, despite - or perhaps as a result of - visits to Oxford Street to buy presents. Even the little Xmas wool hat on my smoothie bottle failed to get me Xmas pumped.

Usually by this time in December I am out citizens arresting anyone who is not wearing a santa hat or tinsel as a scarf, forcing anyone sitting near me to listen to my jingle bells ring tone, slugging back gingerbread lattes, and glued to the HollyOaks Xmas special (Well, that has a little less to do with festive celebration, but let's not get into that one. [I confessed to mrs hhn that I quite fancied Emma Bunton the other day. The chill in the air over that one is still waiting to rise.]) But just can't get into it this year. It just all seems a bit pointless and gaudy. But now I am breaking one of my rules about blogging: that one shouldn't use blogs just to complain about things.

On the up side, mrs hhn's website that I am working on is looking v good. mrs hhn is taking a decent amount of time off over Xmas so we can hang out (and I can continue Spice Girl-related penance). My - soon to be patented - goat wool worm duvet appears to be keeping our 1,000 little friends warm on the balcony. And I don't have to go to an Xmas office party. (Obviously the worms and I are planning a little session with a few beers and cheese straws, but it's more a social than office thing.)

Actually mrs hhn has gone to her Xmas office party today. Being the deeply tasteful and glamorous women that they are, she and her colleagues are avoiding any Xmas tat and heading straight to Zuma for champagne and delicate Asian fusion snacks to celebrate their first year in business. For those of you who have not been there, Zuma is a *&^%ing great restaurant, probably one of the the best in London. I did offer to go along, arguing that I am theoretically working for them at the moment, but was ceremoniously turned down on account of being spotted as the enormous ligger that I am capable of being when vintage Saki and great Japanese food is on offer.

But it is a deep relief that I don't have to go to any Xmas office parties. They remain the most miserable of affairs, with the HR team huddled around the food table like they've just got out of prison, and all of the people from finance trying to convince you they do have personalities, and your boss looking even more sinister than usual in his paper hat, and the only two vaguely attractive people in the whole office leaving early - together, and you ending up going for a drink with the security guard who admits to you that he didn't talk to you all year because he thought you were a poof. Bring on the beer and cheese snacks and my manure-generating buddies.

To shake of my scrooge-like feelings, am off to see Jackass 2 this evening. Nothing like watching a man being run over by a bull to get you into the Xmas mood.