I'm a bit squeamish. Well, maybe more than a bit. I fainted once when I cut myself with an axe -- which sounds more serious than it was -- and I had to leave the cinema for a bit during Pulp Fiction (I don't like needles much). But the other end of the scale is just too much. I know this guy who watched his wife's caesarean, and that's just wrong. They take bits out and lay them to one side while that operation is going on. It must affect how he sees his missus now.

Oh, I remember another fainting episode. I was while watching One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. In my defense, the room was very stuffy and my father had just been admitted to hospital having had a nervous breakdown or manic attack. So the clinical shock treatment stuff struck a bit close to home.

Ok, I'm a wuss.

My recent remarks about the dry weather will not have done down well with anyone living in the south of France. I apologise to my loyal French audience.

And good lord! Chris De Burgh's daughter won the Miss World contest! Irish cailín wins the global Lovely Girl competition! We should be so proud. I could snark here, but I'm above all that.

The builders came and we now have a fireplace shaped hole in the wall. And yes, we will need (need?) three trees this year. No organic life could have a better reason for living than brightening up our christmas.

I had a discussion with Sally about the party and said that if she wanted to have it, I'd organise it. But she didn't bite. We've cancelled with the few people we'd invited and scheduled a smaller gathering. Yes, it was likely that she wasn't going to say yes, and yes, I probably am still a bad person, but next year, next year...

I actually think she decided that she'd rather spend the money on a trip to Barcelona. But don't tell our friends.