Whenever you're called on to make up your mind,
and you're hampered by not having any,
the best way to solve the dilemma, you'll find,
is simply by spinning a penny.

No - not so that chance shall decide the affair
while you're passively standing there moping;
but the moment the penny is up in the air,
you suddenly know what you're hoping.

I'm having a rather smashing Christmas. I've managed to consume enough calories to enable a cross channel swim, drank so much champagne my internal organs are floating in fizz and strangely, ignited a passion for jigsaws.

Fed up with the snow thing. We have not got an inch of the stuff. Everywhere else is covered in a blanket but we have escaped it. Honestly, there's more white powder on Kate Moss's toilet seat then there is in our garden. When I grow up I'm moving from this area of moribund weather. Scotland, Cornwall or the Lake District. If weather was music we get the stuff that is played in lifts.

Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.....

I will go about my business during the next two days very carefully, I shall not ignore the carol singers' tin or collect debts from poor old ladies. I shall not scrimp on my gifts or turn the thermostat down when I get home. I don't want to be wake up to a strange apiration in the middle of the night.....

But I will just say one thing nasty - that Kate Melua is dreadful. Have you heard her? The juvenile lyrics, the god awful singing - she sounds like she should have had her adenoids out.

Last night she was on tv singing the Fairytale of New York with the Pogues which was quite a shocker. I loved Kirsty Maccoll so she was on shakey ground to begin with but my word it was god awful. Her limitations were laid bare like a dropped bag of rice on the kitchen floor, her flaws spilled out all over prime time tv and I hid behind my cushion. There, that's enough. Merry Christmas to all Lola readers!

I feel like a pickled onion ready to burst out of a jar and onto a Boxing day buffet. Like a shiny sixpence in a pudding, waiting to break an old ladies last remaining good tooth. I feel like a complicated puzzle nestling between a paper hat and the snap in a cracker. I feel like a sugar lump ready to be left by the fire for Blitzen. I'm very excited.

I know in a few days when I have eaten and drunk too much I will feel a bit like that cheap flimsy card that someone has sent you that you thought liked you a bit more. Or like the back end of a pantomime cow and look like the kid in the school nativity who came from the nasty housing estate who's costume didn't look any good.

Never the less, I am very excited and ready and waiting for Christmas to begin!

Four sleeps until the big day! Went to Tesco during lunchtime and my goodness the shelves are groaning under the weight of indulgence. I got shuvved in the arse by a trolley, I don't think I was in the wrong but one can never be too sure.

Schools are off now and don't we know it. The roads are flowing freely as if someone has taken their foot off of the hosepipe. Infact, as I walked to work all I could see were 4x4's parked badly in driveways. No school run for the yummy mummies this week!

It didn't make a lot of difference on the car fumes though. My walk to work is chocka with pollution. I may have the pins of Zola Budd but I've the lungs of a coal miner.

I am a lucky ducky. Last night the Ladyfriend took me out for my birthday treat (she was sadly under the weather last week and a night of celebration was kicked to the kerb and Lemsip replaced the Champers).

I was whizzed off to Windsor for ice-skating in the park. It was bloody freezing and although I have a keen sense of adventure I decided to forego a night on the ice. It did look very inviting though with the castle floodlit behind the rink.

We scooted off to Browns for tea instead and my word what a treat. It's been a long while since I have tasted such gorgeous nosh. I sank my teeth into a lamb's rump and wouldn't let go for dear life! I was spoilt thoroughly and had to be rolled out of Browns like Violet Beauregarde.

Wrapping presents and a bottle of Cava don't mix I'm telling ya. Yesterday the Ladyfriend suggested we get a bottle out of the fridge which she had won in a raffle. I frowned as it was not even four o'clock in the afternoon but I could see she was fraught and well it is Christmas and all.

It all went fine at first, I invented the "Plate of Tape". We do not own a tape dispenser and every year I get fed up with stopping to cut a bit of sellotape whilst holding down the paper and present with my left foot. This year I turned over a plate and sat and cut about ten pieces of sellotape and stuck them to it. It was my intention to pick off a bit of tape as I went along, dashing through the wrapping like a hot knife through butter.

It was a roaring success. Until the Cava kicked in. Then merry hell began. The Ladyfriend took over and started to cut tape for the "Plate of Tape" she wasn't cutting it on the bias and so the tape stuck flat to the plate. She fell behind with the replenishment and was getting all nasty with it, scoffing at my baggy ends and generally carrying on. I told her not to criticise the "Plate of Tape" as it was my invention and far better than what we have ever done in years before.

I wont need the plate of tape when I do her presents because she aint getting any now! I'm going to give them to the workhouse.

Sometime this week some University published a mathematical formula for wrapping Christmas present YxZ=X etc. All very useful I am sure but of no help to me, I am afraid I come from the last minute school of wrapping. I cut corners, rip tape with my teeth and slash the paper as though it were cut with a chainsaw. Any matching of pattern is by accident than design and tags are hastily attached and written with a flourish.

What I'd REALLY like to know the formula for is getting tree decorations to hang the right way round. Last night I was getting into a right old state as my little drummer boys span around to face the wall and not the audience. This morning I sat down to breakfast to the sight of a polar bear's arse in my face where I should have seen his cheery face and marvelled at his jaunty scarf. Hopeless. What goods a little fairy if all we can see is the back of her tutu?

Good grief it's hot. I'm sitting in the office and I feel like an extra from Tenko. Someone has been messing with the evil air conditioning and we're sitting in a micro-climate stuffed to the gills with foul odours.

Grabbed the Christmas Tree from B&Q last night. Couldn't be bothered with shopping around, time is money etc. It's now or never and so on. Grabbed a 6 footer and bundled it into the back of the car. Nearly had an accident backing out of the car park, I couldn't bloody see a thing and why walk out infront of a reversing car anyway?

The tree is now propped up in the garden wrapped in netting all kinky like. I shall haul it inside tonight and let it out of its bondage. I daresay it will be full of mice (we have a little colony in the garden) The birds rely on me for food, the mice rely on the birds to miss a bit, the cats rely on the mice to take chances and so the beauty of life goes on. So the house will be filled with the heady scent of pine and rodent piss for the next three weeks - happy holidays indeed!

Trotted off to the post office with my brown paper parcels at lunch time and was that a joy. It is only a small PO at the back of one of those "pile it high and sell it rather expensive" convenience shops but my goodness, the queue snaked back into the tins of mulligatawny soup!

There was a peculiar lady monopolising the counter (there was only one man on) completely oblivious to the grumbling masses behind her. We all stood praying she would bugger off. By the time she did wheel herself away there wasn't an ounce of Christmas spirit amongst any of us. I decided to skip buying my stamps and just send off my packages which are late as it is. I didn't want to cause any more trouble in the queue.

Off to find a Christmas tree tonight, it's a bit early but it's the only chance we've got until late next week when there will be nothing left or worth having. Wish me luck as I tackle the Nordic Spruce selection.

What a weekend. The Ladyfriend and I went off to Bath which was absolutely jam packed with shoppers. It took us over an hour to find a parking space. We went round and round until I felt icky sick. (I was hung over from the offic Christmas party where I must admit I was werry, werry drunk)When we were finally slotted in in the multi-story we found our lodgings for the night. It was in the "party end" of town and the website had warned that we may hear some disturbance in the evening due to the road outside. We weren't too worried.

We then went out for a light lunch (an organic burger from the Christmas Market, It needed a few additives, it tasted un-remarkable but filled a gap) my fingers retained the odour of onions all afternoon.

In the evening we popped out for dinner. It took us nearly an hour to find somewhere that would have us. We liked the look of a Thai gaff but were met with a nasty glare from the hostess as we tried to get through the steamed up door. I always thought the Thais were supposed to be a friendly race.

We managed to get in an Indian that looked more like a Wimpy over the bridge. It was alright.

Got back to the Hotel at ten as we were a bit wan. We entered the room to here a god awful din from the Slug and Lettuce pub/club below. It sounded like the speakers were in the room. The Tea and Coffee making facilities were rattling on the dressing table, the pictures were bouncing off the walls. Bath, the beautiful Spa town in Avon ? It was more like bloody Faliraki!

We sat watching Match of the Day - you couldn't sleep - praying the club didn't have a late license. Thankfully it tapered off at midnight. At half six the cleaners turned up and it wasn't light dusting. I lay awake listening to chairs being stacked and tables dragged across the dance floor.

It's my birthday today and I feel my age. I am at work sitting under the fall-out from the oil explosion on Sunday. I daren't go out because of the fall-out. I feel like a Raymond Briggs cartoon.

I've let my plates slip. I've been spinning too much and Life For Lola has suffered teribly. Work has loomed large in chez Lola and if it aint one thing it's the other.
I see a hefty bit of legislation has come through and Elton is to marry that fella in December. Hoorah for that. They are getting married at the same place as my favourite toff Prince Charles. I've always thought Reginald Dwight had a certain royal air about it.
The Ladyfriend may have to change her name too. I think she may have to become The Fiance but I can't find that funny slant over the E. French words make me sick. We shall keep her The Ladyfriend.
Talking of the old girl, we are off to Bath this weekend. We are going for a Christmas knees up in the pump room. I can't wait. There is a Christmas market which we intend to trot round. I dare say that we will end up buying some over priced nonsense from a shed festooned with lights. Those markets are all well and good but as soon as you show interest you end up being lured in and parting with large sums of cash. I bought some cheese from a Farmers Market once that blew a weeks housekeeping in one shot.

Out to din dins last night with Miss Diane. Oooh I did eat a lot. I am sitting here like a pate de fois gras duck. It's nil by mouth for me this weekend.

Miss Diane was telling us about the Cancun hurricane. She was trapped in the eye of the storm and suffered terribly. It sounded awful, I wouldn't have been able to cope, I would have been hysterical and have easily have gone to pieces. I would have been clapping my ruby slippers together faster than you can say "there's no place like home...." I'm not good in a crisis.

I've been on a midwinter break, I've had three days of holiday, holiday, holiday rock down at the Eastbourne bolthole. It was very nice and very productive. The ladyfriend and I now have 60% of our Christmas shopping. We are very pleased with ourselves. We have been trotting around the high streets of Sussex with wind on our heels carrying packages tied up with string, turkeys slung over our shoulders and bags of nuts in our handbags. It's been an excellent beginning to our seasonal splurge at the checkout.