December 31

A VERY happy New Year to both of you!

December 26

REMEMBER - only 364 shopping days to Christmas.

December 21

I'VE just had the insurmountable pleasure of watching Bill Bailey's new DVD Part Troll, filmed live at the Hammersmith Apollo. Although it's not available over here, it was sent over by Blunty who through this act of kindness has justified his existence for the first time in his life. Anyway, Bill's on top form as usual and the lack of Beautiful Ladies was more than made up for by Kraftwerk doing the Hokey Cokey. (By the way, if you don't know what I'm talking about, go here).

But the biggest laugh I had watching the DVD wasn't BB himself but an anti-piracy ad after the final credits. I had to watch it three times before I convinced myself that it wasn't a joke item tacked on the end of the gig. According to the ad, released by the Federation Against Copyright Theft, DVD piracy harms the British movie industry, a claim rendered ludicrous by the simple fact that we don't actually have a film industry unless you count the endless Four Weddings clones that keep black prostitutes in business round Hugh Grant's house. According to the website the UK industry lost the equivalent of $18 billion last year, a figure which could only have been arrived at through either heavy drug use or accounting that makes Enron look legal.

But this magical fictitious figure pales into insignificance beside the last revelation in the ad: apparently, buying pirated DVDs funds terrorism. At this point I burst out laughing at the mental image of a couple of Al-Qaida members desperately trying to flog dodgy copies of Love, Actually at the local car boot sale and panicking 'cos they haven't made enough money to afford more flight lessons. Honest to God, I thought the BB gig was funny but this was hysterical.

December 16

WELL, my first Christmas in America has taken a headfirst dive into the kahzi - not only am I working Christmas Day, I discovered this afternoon that I'm working Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. Fantastico. And I was told via e-mail... double joy! With the other two designers leaving and me becoming the senior designer by default I can see how this happened, I'd just like to have been told in person. When I emailed for info on the hours I'd be doing, I was told "we try to get people in and out as quickly as possible on those days". All well and good, but when I emailed back to ask what the actual hours were, I was told "we try to get people in and out as quickly as possible on those days". Why do I get the impression something's being kept from me?

ON A happier note, here's a pic of my birthday party circa 1977. See if you can guess which one I am. If you guessed the one on the right giving a classic British hand gesture at the tender age of five, you're right. Amazingly, this photo remained undetected in an album for the best part of 25 years until it was noticed during a trip down memory lane. Needless to say my mum removed the offending photo to whatever dimension she puts stuff like this in, but not before Blunty scanned it and sent it over. Nice one!

December 9

MANY apologies for the fact it's taken me ages to update this - I'm sure both of you have been waiting with baited breath for the latest thrilling installment (I dunno why, I haven't). The family's been over for the past couple of weeks and that, on top of me finally buying Half-Life 2 meant I haven't got round to loading Dreamweaver and allowing the voices in my head take control for a while.

It was great having mum, dad and Lou over for two weeks and getting to celebrate Thanksgiving with them. We also got to drive up to the mountains and just to prove it's not all sun and heat in California, here's a shot of Lake Arrowhead in the snow. We did a boat trip round Naples Island, went to Disneyland, and my sister personally ensured the continued employment of 12-year-old Indonesian kids by spending $400 on clothes at Nike Town. As much as I loathe Nike and everything it stands for, I have to give them credit for their business plan of taking a $1 T-shirt, drawing a crappy logo on it and selling it for $50. I went into the store to find my family, only to leave again three minutes later announcing I'd rather get cancer than spend any more time in there among the smug assistants. Besides, they wouldn't embroider "sweatshop" on a shirt.

I'm still doing the glossary of British slang for the Yanks who read this. Well, I mean "still doing" in the sense of "haven't actually got round to starting it yet but will do soon, honest" but at least I've remembered about it, unlike the second part of the Glamis trip report which has disappeared into the fog of history.