The end of another year at last. The sun will be reborn and the days start to get longer. Considering all the apparent misfortune I have had over the last twelve months I'm not sorry to see the end of it. Things can only get better and at I have some hope for the future, rather than the despair which heralded the start of last year.
The only trouble, as ever, is the eternal now that I seem to find myself in with no clear path out. But at least I've got some ideas for improving things (and I'm not going to say anything about them just yet - you never know who might find out things you don't want them to and cause more mischief)
Hey enough of the serious introspective moody stuff already! Time for celebration and joy. If you're not going already take a trip down to the Caernarvon Castle in Camden tomorrow night to celebrate Yule in a suitably decadent style, the excellent Deceit are playing there - I did hear a rumour that they might be festively attired - and as I'm going to take a few snaps of the occasion - so if they do the evidence will be on the ol' interweb before you know it....
Mister Squeaky sends his seasonal condolences and wishes it to be known that he is not in any way sorry whatsoever for his earlier comments about Justin Hawkins and his lycra jockstrap - however he would like to point out that he thinks that all it would contain is a cucumber wrapped in tinfoil (just like Derek Smalls in Spinal Tap)
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