I'm sitting here in my undies pouring over snow porn. This is not some grotty sex-and-drugs porn but actual pictures of snow. I gaze longingly at pictures of snowed-in Europe as sweat trickles down me and drips slowly onto the carpet. It's 41 fucking degrees (105.8 fahrenheit) out there and the wind is like the breath of hell. Sirens have been howling up and down the Peninsula all week and the ambos and fire services must be clutching their lucky charms hard enough to break them. It's perfect bushfire weather and perfect weather for keeling over in the park with heatstroke on top of a hangover.
I was boring last night. I stayed home and watched the fireworks on the telly. Very nice. One million people squeezed themselves onto the Harbour foreshores to watch and only sixty of them got arrested. Pretty good going.
Despite my being a stick-in-the-mud, my New Year was excellent. I started writing a new thingy on December the 3rd and finished it yesterday afternoon. Writing in this weather makes the monitor a bit warm but keeps my mind off the heat. I finished my 20,000 word thingy and I finished it in six sessions of forty hours. Other writers will be shouting 'Fuck me, that's fast!' and going green with envy. They'll go even greener when I tell them it's some of the cleanest prose I've ever written and will need fuck-all editing.
Now I've teased you I'm not going to let you read it. It's a family history thingy with some fairly private family-only type info in it.
Instead, here's a couple of New Year gigglers for your reading pleasure:
Peace and goodwill to all, except Tom Cruise
2006: Bring it on!
And a general giggler:
Is he cute or is he British? - help for those Americans who go for Pommy accents. Which at last count was all of you.
And something for those snowed-in or otherwise frozen:
Linky's beach days
Happy New Year to everyone!