2001-12-29 - 12:22 p.m.

�Camping next to water�a fish-infested slaughter�I feed the fishes into me��

Ahhhhhhh, Christmas. A time for family. A time for giving. A time for near-bloody road death as a psychotic cab driver loses vehicular control doing 85mph round an icy bend. Our collective joy at not ending up as faintly pulsating mounds of twisted roadside flesh were dampened slightly by the driver�s subsequent attempt to charge us full fare, sure, but you�ve got to love that �full use of all limbs� feeling. But yes, it was quite a scary start to the festive proceedings and no, we still can�t work out how we were spared the �speeding cars ploughing into you from all angles� option, but there you go.

Glad to be here.

I love those photocopied letters that people include with Christmas cards in the mistaken assumption that people give a shit about the vapid minutiae of their cold, soulless existences. Special mention goes to the pleasingly distant friends of my parents who enthusiastically informed us all that, �Due to the unseasonably late summer, our tortoises hibernated much later this year, but seem to be enjoying excellent health. We too are fine...� Then you remember that, well, these people DID move to Wales by choice.

�It�s misty within reason�I�m hoping I don�t freeze here�.I fule the fire, feed its glow��

Time also to put yourself in the company of people to whom your physical presence makes no difference, apart from perhaps making the day a little more confusing than it otherwise might have been. Elderly aunts in nursing homes stared blankly through me as I struggled to maintain acceptable levels of smalltalk, a bit like the last time I approached a girl in a nightclub, come to think of it. I also failed to avoid going to look at the newly-spawned offspring of a couple I used to know � it was vaguely unfulfilling, and I assume the feeling was mutual. At least they didn�t try to make me hold it, or force me to witness any form of natural feeding process.

Come to think of it, babies were everywhere � in relative�s houses, on the minds of every couple I know, on TV, in the nation�s hearts. Overrated little fuckers.

Overheard in the nursing home: A middle aged woman was visiting a noticeably more responsive relative than me. At one conversational lull, he piped up with, �You don�t want to get old�. �Well, I don�t know,� she replied, �I�d like to reach 93 like my dad.� �Well,� he says, �It�s not the end of the world if you don�t.�

I�m trying to have a calm couple of days. After all, a liver is for life, not just for Christmas.

�But there�s no use in feelin��all the things I�m feelin��There�s no-one here to feel with me��

Today�s happy camper