Topics to write about?- well I guess it's what you find yourself doing and fearing in this mad world. Today's world took me sadly with the news that Gordon McLean, architect of no parish, resident of Soho benches, wearer of fine suits under adversity, the last of the Soho I understand as worth enjoying, and university tutor, is in UCH with pneumonia and all the rest (critical that is). At the same time the postman delivered me a very fine copy of 'Low Life' Jeff Bernard's brilliant musings, mostly on hospitals and horse racing to be honest. It's good to know that Sally, Jeff's old nurse, is with Gordon as I write this. There is some continuity after all amongst low lives.

I was in the Coach of course and said a Soho prayer for him, but they had a fucking Christmas tree and Yee Olde Victorian advertisments for singalongs. Christ how things have changed for the worse.

Earlier had a jolly 'Christmas drink' (I'm joking) with Nic in the White Horse. We mused on the unsexyness of Australia amongst other things (Der yerr wanna do it agin?- Der yerr wanna go outside?) and the impossibility of me developing some kind of career path because of all the twenty five year old cunts coming up behind even if I wanted one in the first place and I despise even the word.

Julie arrived home resplendent in a new military trench coat and Russian hat, and to boot she'd been pushed and pulled in knee therapy in some other hospital. She enjoyed the experience so much the coat and hat were irrisistable. Very Carry On missus.

Kirsty's Home Made Christmas will now make me throw.