Another afternoon of Christmas shopping, another two gifts. I hope the recipients appreciate them - I had to go through a lot to get them. Not that I usually mind being chatted up by gay shop assistants who want to know where I'm from, how long I'm down for, and when I'm going home (he looked devastated when I told him I was leaving that night), but I was in a hurry, and frankly he wouldn't let me leave without giving me a rundown of the Brighton social scene, and fishing for an invite to Ipswich. But on the bright side, he did wrap up my gift and stick a feather on it free of charge. Which only looks slightly camp. My Dad will love it.

Talking of which, I left Brighton at 9:15pm last night, and stopped off at my parents in Chelmsford, only to be greeted by this luminous sign attached to their front door...


Honestly, no one ever tells me anything. First I find out my Dad's
calling himself Mr Magic, now he's turned into a "local musician" (for local people). Still, at least it means he doesn't have to travel far. Although with no admission charge and refreshments provided, he'll basically be playing to the homeless, and fans of free food.

I place myself firmly in the latter camp, but even I wouldn't go to a violin recital.

Although obviously I wish my father all the best in this endeavour.

And not just because I want the Stradivarius when he's dead.