Despite having numerous reasons to be cheerful about 2010, there's something of a depressive mist hanging over PR towers today. This is the Sunday night feeling XRi Turbo as I can quite honestly say that I've had my best December on record and I'm somewhere in between distraught and despondent at returning to work tomorrow.
The Spanish sejourn was once again everything a boy needed as I balanced a Spanish family Christmas with some serious nightlife which is always much improved when you're in the presence of some of Granada's clubbing royalty. It was five days of perfect food, copious booze, festive cultural discovery and a throat curdling 20 Marlboros a day.
My small selection of gifts is probably fairly telling but I was thrilled with each and every one, which included: a hand blender, a pasta pan, a Kraftwerk documentary, the Steve Coogan 2008 Live Tour DVD, some yellow Ikea slippers, a heftily weighted silk tie (which is nice, though has a few too many stripes than my customary club stripe numbers) and a selection of Spanish charcuterie. Oh, and my sister sent me a hat with corks on from Australia. The joke certainly didn't merit the $11 postage and, frankly, just pissed me off considering I'd sent her Marc Jacobs sandals in effort to provide her with some fashion amidst that cultural void of a country.
Then came my return to London, and despite having spent an 11 hour hungover journey encompassing a taxi, coach, bus, plane, train and tube, I just cracked back on with the usual shenanigans. My first dinner date with new lady went swimmingly leading to a drinks date 2 days later and dinner at my house last night.
But perhaps it's all a bit much too fast. Quite why I have to treat such matters with the same regard as booze and gak I don't know; it just seems that if I like the taste of something I'm unable to refuse more. So now I find myself in bed (with a nice glass of pinot noir and some kind of man-flu/immobilising return to work fear) with long black hairs and make-up strewn on the pillows and little plastic contact lens thingeys by the bed despite having 20-20 vision. Oh how I've missed these joys.
I suppose the mention of the new lady in my life brings me rather nicely onto my New Year's Resolutions. I rarely make the 'giving up' ones but think I've concocted a nice selection of 'taking up' alternatives:
1.) Get a new job that uses more than the 10% of my brain and 5% of my creativity of the current one. In the meantime negotiate higher salary for said current role.
2.) Treat women with the kindness they deserve.
3.) Play football once a week where possible. Already did that today: low point - taking one clean in the bollocks, high point - old gent in the park congratulating me on scoring a bit of a 20 yard belter.
4.) Get back into DJing - may already have this tied down at a new bar in my bit of London.
5.) Do everything in my power to gain as much money as possible. Anyone who says 'money doesn't equal happiness' in 2010 is delusional, lying to themselves or a spoilt little brat.
6.) Refrain from smoking quite so much at work however great the frustration/stress/boredom/despondency may be.
7.) Refrain from pointlessly drinking in the working day with the obvious exceptions of press appointments/client meetings etc.
I suppose that final resolution does constitute a 'giving up' one doesn't it? Though so terrified am I of going back to the office tomorrow there's a high chance I'll have skulked off to the local (alone) by 1pm to break it. Happy New Year all.
