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.

I've had this little habit of picking up discarded shopping lists. The Ladyfriend has had to suffer me running to grab trolleys where a list has been left on the mini clip board. I take great delight in reading what people have been after. I've always planned to do a website of just that thing, pages of lists torn from spiral bound pads, backs of envelopes and small bits of card.

Today I found this one in Marks and Spencers (fabulous mince pies by the way) it was left at the end of the check out. I reckon the shopper is a lady (nice writing) is doing something Asian/Thai (coconut cream) and is having some girls from work over to dinner (food - picky, crips - nibbles).

I see there is no booze, although two cartons of orange juice may suggest there may be a bottle of vodka in the cupboard. The nappies also suggest a baby may be involved. This is more fun then I first imagined!

Ooooh Email is still on the fritz. The poor girl in IT is close to tears. She has been fielding fraught telephone calls from all over the company and locking her door because all of the mad women who think that she might be able to get theirs to work and not everyone elses. We have had a skeleton kind of system that has worked and then gone down again. A bit like a passing ship in the night, we get a quick glimpse of a light and then it floats off again into deeper waters.
I did manage to pick up a couple of emails and noticed one from Justin! I do hope you are reading this Justin as I can't reply to your mail! Thank you for your nice comments. In answer to your question it is a Konica Minolta Dimage Z2 Click here for a link. I shall reply to you as soon as I can!

It's fabulous. The email at work has fallen over. Obviously it's not nice for some people, but for me it has become a very liberating experience. Each morning I "send and receive" and then spend an hour or two correcting mistakes, answering odd people's queries and generally carrying on because of my stuffed inbox. Today, I have shot along like someone on a bobsleigh. I've had no amusing "Fwd" emails of people damaging their genitalia, no "Please send me £5,000 because I'm Columbian" and no work related Word Documents (I hate Word Documents)
So it's a day of celebration for Lola, I hope it's broken all week.

I must say I'm loving this cold snap. I do like weather that the body can react to. I was walking to work yesterday bundled up like Paddington Bear and I cold feel my legs burning as the cold air hung on them.

The Ladyfriend and I are off to see Clare Teal tonight. We like her, girl with a good pair of lungs. A downside of cold weather though is big coats at concerts. I don't like people who put chunky outdoor clothing on the back of their seats. Gloves sticking out of the pockets and scarves drapped so I tread on them. NO, coats and concerts don't mix.

I've been handed a menu for the work Christmas Lunch. I have to make a choice. I've been in turmoil. I can't have the cod loin because we aren't supposed to be eating the endangered fish. French Onion soup with a crisp baguette will mean showering everyone with bits of bread, the vegetarian option is always a dissapointment and the Turkey dinner seems predictable.

I'm not good at eating in big groups. I get used to the pace of a meal with family and friends. What if I eat too fast? I will be branded a pig, if I eat too slow they may question an eating disorder! I may have to cry off, and conjur an excuse not too attend.

Tonight in High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, Basil Brush is switching on the town's Christmas lights. He is starring in panto there and is naturally the top choice to press the button which will illuminate the dingy town during the festive season.
Lofty and I were looking at his photo and both remarked on how clean he looked. As he has been in the business since the 1970's he has kept himself in shape and not let himself go at all - not like some I'd care to mention.
We wondered to ourselves whether somewhere there might be a huge case of lifeless Basil Brushes in various states and poses waiting for their chance to go on. We decided this was a daft idea and, like Father Christmas, there's only one Basil Brush.

I am well and truly alive with Christmas. I am pulled ever forward into the festivities which each passing hour. I feel like a bull at a country auction, trotting around the showring with a ring through my nose.
I have been looking into my gifts, I like to give the unusual, I do enjoy putting something odd into peoples laps. I have begun in earnest, trawling the internet to bring Christmas cheer.
I don't know if I shall make a cake this year, I didn't the last, infact Nigella should give me a wack about the head with a baking tray for being so tardy. Time it seems has had the better of me. I prefer instead to look at others in magazines icing their cakes and trimming trees with home made decorations. I was reading Country Living last night, marvelling at the people in it and their industry, ofcourse the pictures were taken in June but that's all by the by.
This year I may make some kind of arrangement with nuts and driftwood, it will probably ending up looking like something from the Blair Witch Project and knowing my luck it won't be just Santa's eye I'll be attracting!

Atlast! Cold weather! A cold and frosty morning! Temperatures plummeting, scarfs and big coats, real weather. I was so cheered this morning as I heard people outside scraping their cars that I sprung out of bed with great vim and vigour and looked at the grass bejewelled with frost.

For the last few weeks I have felt decidedly out of sorts. Normally by now I am fizzing away with Christmas delight and expectation. I remember as a youth I would play my Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass Christmas album in October. But I have had not a flicker of fairy light in my eyes. I have poo pooed Christmas magazines, refused to look at those catalogues that come with the Sunday Papers and I have generally been sucking on a big bah humbug. But that was until this morning.

As I sat in the car and watched as the ladyfriend de-iced the car I began to feel a whoosh of seasonal joy come over me. I do believe it is all down to the snap of Jack Frosts fingers. Hooraay for his icy digits!

I've just managed to find some time to download the pictures from Lewes on Saturday and thought you might like to see how simple country folk spend their autumnul evenings - shove 'appeny it aint.

I'm on dial-up at home and am shocked and stunned at how fast the internet connection is. I reckon everyone has jumped ship and bought broadband leaving the internet highway clean as a whistle for the likes of me!

It's like this digital tv scaremongering, don't buy into it!

Had the displeasure of watching Fiona Phillips on GMTV this morning, she was given the job of interviewing David Cameron the Tory Housewife's choice. I'm sure the people at GMTV give her these high brow jobs to take the piss as it's car crash tv at its best.

She's a bit chummy with Tony Blair when he comes on her sofa so it was clear she was going to make David's ride a rough one. She jumped up and down like a six year old child with nits. Pulled the most peculiar faces, didn't let him finish a sentance and generally made herself look a bit of fool.

My favourite bit was when she put her foot in it with one of her fab quotes (I'm sure if they made a littl book of Fiona Phillips quotes it would sell like hot cakes for Christmas) She said something along the lines of "David, you're well educated and have done well for yourself, what makes you think you've got anything in common with our viewers?" She sat there looking smug yet she had just trashed everyone sitting at home on their DFS sofas. Marvellous.

My favourite Fiona quote though was after the death of Princess Diana, they were talking about her death and were showing pictures of her and Dodi on a speedboat.
There was a lull in the conversation and she said "well, atleast she had a nice holiday before it happened".

Wow. I've listened to a few near the mark jokes in my time, I've made a few right wing comments after a few glasses of wine and tutted as the European Union bring in more legislation which gets my back up but never, NEVER have I been a part of somenthing SO politically incorrect and so blatantly British in my life.
For those playing catch up at the back I am ofcourse referring to the Lewes Bonfire night on Saturday. It was amazing. People (including children) marched up and down a narrow high street carrying lit torches (flame not battery) raced barrels of fire over a bridge, dragged burning crosses to samba music and hung up banners saying "Down with papacy". The Ladyfriend and I stood in mouth dropping awe as something so raw could carryon in Blairs social engineered, mollycoddled England. And that wasn't the end of it.
When the street procession ended, each bonfire society goes off and does their own firework display. We went to the Cliffe one (thanks to Coo Coo Coo choo Mrs Robinson for getting the tickets) we waited for the fireworks to begin with hundreds of others in a damp, dark field. Opposite us stood a huge effigy of the Pope. Suddenly I could hear cries of "burn him, burn him" I thought this was for Guy Fawkes (surely the greatest example of why not to fall in with the wrong crowd) but no, it grew louder "burn the Pope, burn the Pope" and "let him burn!"
I expected a thunder bolt from heaven...afterall I'm walking on thin ice as it is...I felt like an extra from the wicker man. I felt alive!

Oh lordy, I'm excited, the Lewes bonfire night is tomorrow and I am champing at the bit to get to Sussex to see the spectacle. I'm going to take a camera but can't vouch for the quality of the pictures because ONE: Fire and nightime pics are not my speciality and TWO: The pubs open at 4.30pm. Hmmmmmmmm, we shall see. If I end up on Sunday morning in a farmer's hay barn smeared in mud with vague memories of morris dancing I won't be at all surprised!

I've been having an absolute mary at work and have not found the time to chit chat. I do apologise to you all, I don't want Madonna coming along and pinching all my readers - well, if she can nip in and pinch Kylie's crown while the poor girls on the backfoot she'll stop at nothing. I don't suppose she's sent Ms Minogue a basket of fruit do you?

Anyway, must dash. But before I go, does anyone else remember The Flashing Blade? I loved it but it seems to have passed everyone by, take a look at this link click here