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Three days left in work. My meetings are being cancelled willy and indeed nilly. Out of office messages abound. Over the last three years I've spent December doing redundancy meetings so I can't lie, this is a WONDERFUL albeit confusing change.

I've done two vaguely anxiety inducing jobs that Absolutely Had To Be Done By The Year End and I am now having real difficulty persuading my brain that no, we do still need to do all of the less scary stuff, it's not holiday time yet.

Out of office is on, laptop is away, takeaway is ordered, dog has immediately curled up on me in the sofa for a cuddle, I'm only still wearing a bra because I don't want to alarm the driver. Let the festive rot commence.

Someone has kindly sent me two books - The Saint of Bright Doors and The Gifts of Reading - but with no notes! Thank you, anonymous person if you are reading this.

Either Star Trek got it wrong or this is about to be the most eventful 9 days in Irish history.

Watched Wallace and Gromit with a big box of Maltesers and a cup of tea. Happiness itself, really. (Madame's Butter Pies!)

Just watched Doctor Who and I really enjoyed it but oh my goodness I was not prepared to be bawling my eyes out as much as I did.

I can only imagine the sensible, restrained discourse over the last few days, what a terrible shame I had it all muted, oh well, absolutely no way to go back and check of course, will just have to imagine the reasoned discussions.

I read this in his voice

Went to a neighbour's for a new year's eve party, ate pizza, chatted lots of nonsense, watched the fireworks, did the washing up and everyone was back in their own flats for 12.30. This is a good omen.