• Monday 19 December 2005

I'm dreaming of...
After barely recovering from my two November shows, I suddenly find myself in the midst of the run-up to Christmas. No matter how I seem to approach it, I can never avoid the last-minute rush to get everything done.
How I envy those smug "I've done all my Christmas shopping and have wrapped all my gifts" people. It appears that the earlier I start shopping, the longer it goes on for, yet another example of the adage that "work always expands to fill the time available."
At least I managed to get off all my Christmas cards to friends, relatives, loyal readers, subscribers, business colleagues, neighbours and suchlike. I actually wrote a smidgeon under 500 cards this year... utter madness. But then, it is Christmas.
And the shopping hasn't gone too badly either. Online stores have certainly made the annual fight at the shop tills an option rather than a necessity, but waiting in for the gifts to be delivered is a pain. As is chasing the orders which have been charged to your card but not received, and returning the items dispatched in error. As I write, I have been waiting in all day for a special gift for my missus (as I've already surrendered the one I bought for her to her parents). Which means that all my other errands will have to be done tomorrow, assuming that it will still be delivered as promised. Otherwise I'll have to wait in tomorrow too, and try to do everything on Wednesday.
Still, the ability to browse and order items at generous discounts from the comfort of your own sofa at any time of the day and night surely beats all that frustrating queuing. So, thank you play.com, amazon.co.uk and powderpuff.net

• Sunday 4 December 2005

r.i.p. georgie best

blog archive
November 2005
October 2005
18 September 2005
04 September 2005
21 August 2005
14 August 2005
07 August 2005
31 July 2005
24 July 2005
17 July 2005
10 July 2005

George Best was one of those extremely rare footballers who transcended club loyalty. I was a young boy when George was at the height of his career, and although I supported Chelsea, he was a huge favourite of mine. Even football-hating friends had posters of Bestie on their walls. He was as much a part of the very fabric of the 1960s as The Beatles.
His footballing genius was unparalleled, and so it seemed was his drinking and womanising, which ultimately proved to be his downfall. Although his death was anticipated for many weeks, it's still hard to believe that he's gone at the age of only 59.

• November's Nonsense