May your days be merry and bright
Thursday 12th December:
Another groggy start to the day. Felt decidedly snotty. Apparently there is a flu epidemic on the way. Reminded me that I really should have sorted out my seasonal jabs by now but life as ever gets in the way.
Skipped yoga and run in order to get as much work out of the way as possible since I anticipate a hangover on Friday. Felt very chuffed with myself to get the bulk of the conference report out of the way. Somehow it magically all fell into place. It's great when that happens.
Had a nice chat with P about White Christmas. I was confused that he believed it was from the film Holiday Inn whereas it's definitely in the film White Christmas. More on that story later. He made some funny jokes about JC being nailed to a tree and that being why we celebrate with Christmas trees. He's a lovely man. I felt bad about nagging him to clean the bloody bathroom so chickened out of reminding him to clean the bloody bathroom.
Got another Christmas card from neighbours. I now have three Christmas cards from neighbours, one from Emma, and none from family. It's lovely having nice neighbours. I'm so lucky to live here.
It was a drizzly evening as I set off down the hill but my heart was lifted by all the beautifully decorated houses on Bittacy Hill. Had a good chuckle about people who still go on about how "they" have banned Christmas.
Got off at Tottenham Court Road where central London was ablaze with Christmas lights and trees. There was also a fabulous video thing of butterflies at the dazzling yet strangely sinister Outernet. Might take Daisy there.
Met Kevin outside Conway Hall for this evening's lecture: "Unboxing Irving Berlin's White Christmas". It was good to see him, although he seemed somewhat preoccupied. He has a job interview in the morning so perhaps that was the reason.
Anyway, the lecture was ruddy fantastic. The Professor had the marvellous name of Dominic Broomfield-McHugh and looked like a cross between Michael Gove and Alan Carr, dressed up as Jon Pertwee's Doctor Who. He began by asking us what linked Abba, Beyonce, The Smiths, and various other artistes. The answer was they had all banned Donald Trump from using their music.
He went on to explore the slightly bonkers intersection between the world's best selling song of all time and the convoluted election of war hero General Eisenhower as the President of the USA. White Christmas itself began as one of the songs in the musical Holiday Inn (each song representing a holiday like Easter, Thanksgiving, etc) which went onto become a successful motion picture.
White Christmas wasn't even the biggest hit from the film at the time. That honour went to the Valentine's Day song, a ditty called Be Careful It's My Heart. We were treated to this and various other hits by the Professor on the piano and a fabulous West End star who looked like Victoria Wood. However, White Christmas became what we now call a slow burner and by October 1942 it topped both the sheet music (a big deal in those days) and record charts. It emerged that this was due to the reality of the war (still less than a year old in America) hitting home and the song's plaintive yearning striking a chord with servicemen being sent abroad, their families, and the wider public at large.
Anyway, the story is long and convoluted but the practical upshot is that IB got right behind the idea of having Ike as President after the war, wrote the song They Like Ike - later changed to campaign theme I Like Ike - and conceived the movie White Christmas as a love letter to the war hero. Crikey!
It was a marvellous lecture, topped off with celebratory free mulled wine. I was full of Christmas joy and invited Kevin to the pub. He normally is a big fan of a drink and I had anticipated quite a full-on evening, but perhaps because of the job interview he stuck to Lucky Saint. Even more unexpectedly he shortly delivered a rant about the sort of people who listen to Rory Stewart podcasts and say things like "the grown ups are back in the room". I couldn't help feeling a little under attack as he repeatedly shouted "fuck those guys!"
As a result, the evening ended earlier than anticipated. I messaged a friend asking if she fancied having a night cap somewhere. It was just after 21:00 so this didn't seem an outrageous suggestion. Initially she suggested a pub near her. I then reflected that quitting while I was ahead was probably not a bad idea and said I'd elected to go home. She subsequently replied with an alarming message along the lines of "just to be clear I'm not up for late night rendezvous". This was not my intention. Oh dear.
Felt decidedly maudlin as I stumbled home through the rain. Stayed up far too late reading more Adrian. He seems very troubled, hates being famous, hints at Rik Mayall being problematic, and doesn't rate the Young Ones very highly. What a misery. Merry Christmas!
Today's expenditure:
Drinks in pub: £12.85
Vape: £5.99
Pasty: £5.99
Pasta thing: £1.10
Beans: £0.40
Ancona sauce: £2.10
Potatoes: £0.49
Bread: £1.15
Tubes: £6.40
Total: £36.47
Alcohol consumption:
2x thimbles of mulled wine
2x pints of Camden Pale