Christmas 2009.

I spent Christmas this year with Pickled Lily and The Stig, which, just as it did last year, made me ashamed of myself for feeling pathetically self-pitying and bitter in the run up to Christmas, as I do have a family of sorts to return to at the end of the year - in fact, I don't even need to return because they were there day to day throughout the year. And I can get very ungrateful and caught up in my own loneliness and occasionally forget this.

But, as a lovely reminder of my little mini urbanite family, I spent a chilled out Christmas Day with Pickled Lily and The Stig, and the Stig's brother, which we spent eating and opening presents and watching Doctor Who, and all the cosy things you're supposed to do for Christmas. Except for the getting gradually more drunk throughout the day tradition - as I was nursing a bit of a hangover from Christmas Eve, which I spent getting drunk at the office with one of my bosses (who I've developed a little unexpected connection with, but another story..)

Anyway, I had to work Boxing day so literally had the briefest of Christmasses ever - but it was perfect. Albeit last year may be the best Christmas I'll ever have, so this year was never going to match up, but all things considered, it was pretty perfect. Well, having to work Christmas Eve and Boxing Day, and Pickled Lily's mum not turning up, and having just missed out on a White Christmas opportunity, and nursing both a raging hangover and a blossoming mini crush on my boss - these things may not have been ideal, but somehow made sense considering the crazy year we've all had! So yes, Christmas of 2009 fit in just perfectly.

Fingers crossed New Year's doesn't kick us all in the bollocks.

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One of my presents from Pickled Lily was so good, I just had to brush it aside. You can tell when I really love something, like really truly love something that someone has given me, because I have to hide it away, mumble a quiet "thank-you", and pretend I'm not weeping with pure gratitude inside. For someone relatively vocal, I'm surprisingly bad at thank-you's. I always feel really self-conscious and slightly unworthy, and strangely embarrassed. And I felt exactly that when I opened it - it was a picture that Pickled Lily had drawn, of Death and Delirium, that was so.. well, beautifully drawn but it was I dunno, honest, and full of life and meaning (I sound ridiculous, but I'm really trying not to get gushy!) and something about the way she'd drawn Death's eyes just made me think of me (ok that sounded morbid, but it's not - there's a sort of sparkle, or light or something, to them that felt a bit like looking into a mirror - but everything about the picture was undeniably Pickled Lily, so it was - I dunno, it just felt like me and her through both our eyes, via her art. Fuck, I'm getting gushy and uncomprehensible. See, not so good at the thank-you's, even just in my own head. Plus I'm still in a bracket.) - There we go, out of the bracket.

Anyway, I got some lovely, sweet, funny presents this year, but that one might just be the best thing I've ever been given. Because it felt like me. And it felt like her. And lets not forget, this year I've been given a Tiffany necklace and a bottle of Moet! My point being, I haven't said more to her about it than "Ah thanks mate" - but I'm pretty sure she knows that in my language that means "I love it, and I love you, and that will go very nicely in the cosy room I keep for you in my heart with my cat and my music and the very few things that are precious and special to me - and only you would know how happy that just made me, and would have thought to do it in the first place".