He's a brilliant man, that crazy Santa Claus. Apparantly in Holland they have a Santa, except his hat isn't like the one he has over here, its red and tall and much more like a mitre, which, if I spelt correctly, is kind of like those tall hats that bishops wear when they're out on the preach.

So I went out last night and me and Seany left good old Pepe alone with this crazy lady that was after him, and hilarity ensued for a good hour or two as we watched, laughing. Then I got home, ate the traditional chicken butties my parents make every christmas eve, and I went bed. I woke up in the middle of the night and assaulted my toilet with a gallon of chicken sick. Excellent.

So christmas comes and I open presents and find a collection of things that I can wear, smell, and spend. All good.

But I felt ill all day. At church this morning I got light headed, but that was partly due to the overwhelming sense of God, and at the pub I felt a bit poorly too, but I managed to enjoy a good portion of my carvery.

And I saw my whole family, all my brothers and sisters and their boyfriends and girlfriends and all their offspring. Though I did feel a bit bad when I realised there was another nephew and neice walking about, and I wasn't sure of their names and had to ask my daddy. Didn't even know they could bloody walk!

So we got home at about 2pm.. and I've been lazy ever since. I've had two baths already today.