nodoomsdaySo the world didn’t blow up after all. I am not sure if I should be relieved, or if I should send a strongly worded letter to the people in charge. I have been denied the chance to fight off zombies with a dainty Mark hanging from my shoulders, looking about in wild-eyed wonder as the undead hordes close in.

Or did I get the apocalypses mixed up now? This wasn’t supposed to be the zombie apocalypse? Well, I don’t know if Mayans did voodoo or not, but they could have done so for this one. But the Mayans are probably laughing over there in central America, shaking their heads. “Has nobody ever heard of a calendar? The world doesn’t end when the calendar ends”, the Mayans are saying. “Silly westerners.”

norwegian-woodFrom what Mark told me about the situation on the train network yesterday, the chaos could have been a sign of the end of the world. He was off to his interview, and could talk high maths with some toff (his word). He seemed to enjoy it, and seemed to think he did all right. But he was three hours late home, and the journey had been an absolute shambles. It didn’t help that it rained buckets either.

In light of the lack of apocalypses we’ve been laying about today, doing absolutely nothing except get out of the sofa at seven to eat dinner. I have finished a book. I read it from start to finish, and I barely moved from the sofa while reading it.

I must I say I like this idea of not having to think of school. I certainly could get used to it. And this book, “Norwegian Wood”, an early work by Haruki Murakami, is actually quite good. It is considered one of his more accessible works. It feels fantastic to read something that I don’t have to read, for once. I could get used to that too, you know. I could.


christmashouseThis coming week is going to be characterised by comings and goings. On the 24th, Auntie is coming over to us for dinner and Christmas presents. As a half-implant in this country, I have insisted that we celebrate on the 24th as they do in the old country. Then on Tuesday we drive off to Wiltshire to visit Mark’s parents.

The first thing that Mark has packed is beer, so you can imagine that this is looking to be an interesting yuletide. While yours truly has a distinctly ambivalent attitude to this particular holiday – not that I complain about the presents and the food, of course – my hubby to be embraces it with gusto.

The only thing I actually miss is having a real Christmas tree. I could see the two of us decorating one, and it would be so pretty. But with Mark’s asthma no tree is going to enter this house ever. Which makes me a bit sad, because while it is no fun to vacuum up the pins after Christmas, it is a cute addition to the house during it. No pain, no gain, eh?

On the other hand, if we were to get stuck into the whole thing, we would probably end up with something like in the picture. They would have to start a nuclear power plant just for our house. Or add a year’s worth to the greenhouse emissions of this country for all the coal power that would be needed to power our house. Kitsch? Us? No….


This will be our second Christmas together. Last time was still that phase where you were getting to know the inlaws, so it was maybe not as frank and blunt and open as it could be. Although I remember thinking how different their Christmas was to my family’s. In my family, we don’t really celebrate it much. We give presents, eat the food, and then go and do something to idle away the empty hours of the holiday. Dad sits down to watch sports, mum does cross-word puzzles, and I go check for por…. sorry, I go read instructive and uplifting messages on the internet.

Okay, I jest. But my family doesn’t get stuck in. Mark’s does. That makes all the difference, I think, and which is why I look forward to it now. While the atheist me scoffs at the religious subliminal messages all around, and want to rebel at the crass religionisation of this time of year, most of me thinks that it’s going to be a good time.

Maybe this new year’s will be better than the last. Christ, I hope so. I don’t even want to think about the last one.