New Year Backtracking

Right, I take it all back.

I don't hate Christmas anymore.

Christmas is fucking brilliant.

Why the change of heart?

Well, there were still some definite rum points throughout the festivities including more time spent with family and step-family than is absolutely necessary, and of course living in a medieval town that has NO INTERNET CAFES AT ALL, I had no way to blog through it all*.

But all of that was forgotten when I saw some of my presents. There was the usual stream of DVDs and chocolates that never go unappreciated, but there were two rather spectacular presents that made it all seem OK.

First was my present to myself. As a Single Gay, I felt the boyfriend deficit meant that while I would not be getting a gift from a special someone, I wouldn't have to spend money on one either, so I bought myself a little something. And what I bought was a gift set of the new Prada men's fragrance.

It came in some splendid royal blue Prada wrapping paper and it even had Prada tape. I bought it on Christmas Eve and opened it as soon as I got in. It was so beautiful that I applauded when I opened it.

Seeing as it was so amazing, I decided the best solution would be to wrap it back up again in its glorious packaging so I could reopen it on Christmas morning. And I applauded the second time too.

The other phenomenal gift was from my mum and sister and constitutes a birthday present rather than a Christmas one, but they were so excited, they couldn't wait till September (the 5th - put it in your diary) to give it to me. And it was...

... two tickets to see Justin Timberlake in concert at the Millennium Dome in July. How happy was I? So happy that a single tear fell down my cheek.

Snow is going to take the second ticket and she was just as excited as I was when I called her and told her. We've started planning our outfits already as we both expect JT will see us dancing in the crowd, fall in love with us and ask us to go backstage with him. Separately, obviously, as that would just be sick.

So with my new fragrance and seven months to look forward to being in the same room as the Trousersnake, all the crap about Christmas was soon forgotten.

There was also some shoddiness surrounding New Year's Eve - at the last minute, Snow and I agreed to go to The Opera House in Tottenham for a garage-fest, but when I got there they refused to let me in for wearing trainers. My protestations that they let me in with trainers last Boxing Day** fell on deaf ears and so we went for cocktails and were home by 11:30pm - but I'm still on a high (and I'm wearing my Prada, so I smell great), so it wasn't a massive deal.

And as it is now January, I was able to crack open the Phil Olivier calendar.

Happy New Year to me!


* Both my mum and sister have internet access, but I thought it might appear slightly rude to enjoy the dinners they cooked on Christmas Day and Boxing Day respectively, and then disappear upstairs onto their PCs to moan about it all.

** Snow and I originally went to The Scala on Boxing Day 2005, but the night was rubbish. We left and strolled through King's Cross to get a cab to take us to a better night at The Opera House. On the way, I slipped on some ice and fell to the ground, fracturing my elbow. We had two choices: we could go to the hospital and get it put into plaster, or we could go to the club anyway. We jumped in a cab and went to the club. By the time we got there, my left hand was purple and three times its normal size, so with my right hand I stuffed it into my pocket and spent the night dancing with only one arm. I went to the hospital the next day and they put it in plaster for me. Even a broken bone won't stop me dancing.