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I've now reached the point when I never want to read another Terry Pratchett novel, which is unfortunate, since I need to read Wintersmith, Good Omens and parts of Once More * With Footnotes by the end of the year. Doable, if I wasn't aware of these four batches of marking I need to get done. If only I'd been industrious in October when I read Going Postal, A Hat Full of Sky and Thud! and written about then, I would not have had to reread them over the last two days.

Christmas was Christmas, spent with NW, Security Neil and Ebony. I got a few words written in the morning after a relatively subdued night at the Doves and then the Bell&, picking up a useful offer for New Year in the process. I ran late getting to NW's, but it was only just gone two, and I note for future reference that the Imp and Old Brewery were both open. Starter was salmon with mascarpone, which we had at three, followed by a bottle or so before the main course of chicken breast wrapped in stuffing and bacon at four. We left it another hour or more before the chocolate puddle pudding, which I brought. We stuck on A Cock and Bull Story, and Security Neil slept through the first half of it (it's traditional for someone to sleep), with Ebony draped across him, and he woke and talked through the second half. Fortunately I've seen it before so it didn't matter. Ebony later chose me to sit on - you don't argue - and slowly stole the settee as we watched Bad Taste by some young promising director called Peter Jackson. I shall follow his career with interest. Superchef didn't make it down until the late evening, and M, despite development reports, didn't show at all. We left about one.

Ooopps, I forgot to open my present.

M opened the Doves Boxing Day afternoon, and I spent time there, and finally opened my present (gosh). I got back home to a message from the aHOD inviting me round, which was odd as I thought we'd agreed to meet in the early evening. I wasn't sure I wanted to go as I was knackered and it'd be a good 25 minute walk, but I went and had a good time. All the pubs were shut that evening so a long but sober walk home.

And since then, more work, more drinking. Thursday night we went to the Old Brewery (dead), The Cherry Tree (buzzing), Casey's (shut) and Tonic (toxic). I drew the line at Churchills, having already paid to enter a bar with expensive drinks once that evening.

I went to the sale in M&S and found remnants of the dinner service I'm buying at half price - annoying I paid full wack before, but I would've got it at all if I'd waiting until the sales. Good news was they forgot to charge me for two of the items. Tut tut.

So now I'm thrashing my printer with a newly refilled cartridge, and pondering whether I can get a batch of marking done or just prevaricate again. I was rather confused to see that the printer cartridges were missing - before I realised that they had moved to the other side of the printer and were simply out of sight. It doesn't seem possible to replace and have the machine off at the same time.

Last night was fun - they've tied a label to the wheelie bins with dates of collections - actually, no, telling you to look at the leaflet you had six months ago - and this was flapping in the wind. Never quite enough to persuade me to get out of bed and sort it out, but enough to keep me awake. First thing I did this morning was remove it, mind.

I awoke to the news of Saddam's execution. So peace comes to Iraq then, and all is well with the world. There's now a martyr to Western imperialism, although to stick him in prison a` la Hess would have still left a powerful symbol. But what about the other genocides? What about closure for them?

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