I don’t want to eat again for a week. This has nothing to do with staying in last night and watching Delicatessen, a film about an underground band of vegetarian freedom fighters in post-apolocyptic France fighting a canibal butcher (’…this feverish tale of star-crossed lovers and small town cannibalism has endured as a true masterpiece of the fantastique…’ Source: BBC) but more to do with the amount of food I’ve eaten today.

I skipped breakfast, perhaps wisely, then headed off to Galleywood for a pre-Christmas family Christmas meal. I skipped the meat, too, of course, but gorged on everything else, all the while trying to remind myself I was out for dinner tonight so ought to take it easy.

Oh, and then there was dessert. And cheese.

And cake mid-afternoon.

Most of the day was spent reinstalling Windows which got so upset with a new graphics driver it couldn’t even bring itself to boot properly. It would get tantalisingly close, then spontaneously shut down and start all over again just as the loading progress bar got to the last block. Sometimes I find it very easy to irrationally hate inanimate objects.

I ended up going downstairs to watch Thomas the Tank Engine with James while it sorted itself out. It’s bizarre how a mundane story about why Henry had two tenders while Gordon has only one can make the world seem a whole lot simpler.

I stayed there until far too late and then zizzed back into town for dinner with Phil and Kate. He’s back on Match of the Day as producer, after summer working on Question of Sport. It all sounds very glamorour. Kate is doing equally star-studded telly things all over the place and making the whole magazine-editing lark sound very humdrum.

Not seen them in ages, though, so it was good to catch up on what has happened in the … ummm … 14 months, I guess, since their wedding. We’ve never been good at keeping in touch. It’s just as well it’s one of those friendships you can pick up again any time you want…

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