I think I've caught up with myself

The past nine months has been a relentless tail-chasing exercise. I have slept under nine different roofs, sometimes in vast beds, sometimes in me-size beds and sometimes on couches. I have applied for countless jobs and landed one to suit me perfectly.

During that time I have received cards, sometimes in flurries, but also a constant background drip-feed. Some to give me encouragement to keep going, some to applaud successes, some to wish me greetings of the season. I have definitely received more cards than I have sent. I have treasured these cards with the intention of one day finding a way to display them without causing harm to my landlord's property.

I don't buy gifts for people out of seasonal duty. If I see something at any time of year and it screams to me the name of its rightful owner then I get it and give it. There have been only three such occasions this year and one of them was at Athens Airport in April. My apologies to everyone else.

Yesterday, my hunt for appropriate packaging resulted in the surprise discovery of a bamboo stick which has now been repurposed to my satisfaction.

And now I'm going to put my feet up for a bit.

Appalled by the news from Indonesia.

Though I have enjoyed listening to “I'm sorry, I haven't a clue” on my radio while a very aggressive letter to a former tenant from the TV licensing hyenas tells him in no uncertain terms that this property is now under investigation glares up at me. Of course I could notify them that I nether watch nor record television programmes, but then they'll still come round to check anyway so why bother when I can just put the kettle on and wait?