Festive Viewing, Part Three...

The struggle is real

The days between Christmas and New Year pan out the same way each year. Before they arrive, I dread them. When it's mid-December and I'm waiting for the Christmas glow to kick in, I want to postpone the post-Christmas period for as long as possible. But then madness takes over. There's excessive food, I'm in a permanently boozy haze, I eat cheese hourly, and my clothes stop fitting. By the time Boxing Day's over, I'm ready for a break. I don't want to see another Christmas advert. I don't want the sniff of an alcoholic drink. I want to feel 'normal' again. 

But things aren't normal. Not until we've done the first week of January. Schools are still on holiday, rush hour is still calmer, the TV is still full of interesting and non-standard fare. So when you've tired of consuming everything in sight, and you don't want to socialise for another decade, the best thing to do is make use of the telly. Ladies, gentleman, and those who don't adhere to the gender binary, I give you... my Festive Viewing, Part Three! Yep, I really have dragged this out to a third part. You should never have doubted me.

Christmas is OVER

So let's start with the basics. Christmas is over, pack up Elf and Home Alone and put them back in the mental attic. It's time for new, exciting things. The Radio Times (that you'll have pored over with a highlighter the second it came out) is filled with nuggets of wonder. Lavish productions, special episodes, big feature films - they're all there. You'll have added them to your TV planner of choice a few weeks ago. Now the jingle-bellsy stuff is out of the way, it's time to sit down and watch. The choices of viewing can be roughly split into three categories.

Oi, Malkovich. I said Christmas was over.
Now show us your Poirot.

1. Interesting Telly
There's so much novelty at this time of year. Routine scheduling is ditched in favour of one-offs and specials. Top tip: if you forgot to plan ahead, utilise that BBC iPlayer. (Other catch up services are available.) Mark Kermode's Christmas Cinema Secrets was great. Kermode is my favourite film critic because even when I don't agree with him, I RESPECT him. Anything he says about cinema is worth listening to, IMHO. Then there was The Morecambe and Wise Show: The Lost Tapes. Obvs M&W have been culturally linked with this time of year for years, so this felt like a special treat that we didn't know was coming. Then there's the big budget stuff. The BBC are brill at this. There's always an Agatha Christie remake, and this year it was The ABC Murders. John Malkovich no less, had a pop at giving us his Poirot. Fair play, lad. And if that wasn't your thing, maybe a songless Les Miserables might be more up your street. You could always mentally insert Anne Hathaway's Oscar-winning performance, should the need arise. Over on ITV player, the dramatisation of Torvill and Dean was always going be a nostalgic romp. When I get round to watching it, I imagine I'll be bolero-ing myself silly before the evening is out. The Queen and I on Sky was a tongue in cheek morality tale about how a republican Britain might look if the royal family were sent to live in a council house on benefits, and for those that have happy memories of the original cartoon (anyone?) this year's star-studded, new-fangled animation of Watership Down might be worth your time.

In the last few weeks there's been quality TV all over the show. You just have to get round to downloading it.

Me and Geoff Capes could
 have a bash at recreating this.

2. Films I Saw for the First Time at Christmas and so are Always Seasonal in my Head
For the next category, cast your mind back before streaming services, catch up TV, and - if you even can - the Internet. Christmas/New Year was the one time there was a decent chance of seeing a good film on TV. The kind of film you'd have liked to have seen at the cinema, but you had no money, no one would take you, and you'd been told to wait until it came on television. As December rocked up, the Radio Times was highlighted to death, and a bumper pack of blank VHSs were bought. As a result, I've seasonal feelings about a whole host of films I encountered for the first time this way. I first saw Crocodile Dundee after it was shown at Christmas 1989. I wrote a review of it in my diary that year. (I had to concertina in an extra page because I had so much to say.) Dirty Dancing came into my life at Christmas 1990, as did Back to the Future. In 1992 I saw A Fish Called Wanda after it was broadcast on Boxing Day. Shirley Valentine was Christmas Day's evening film in 1992 and Last of the Mohicans was a few days before Christmas in 1995*. I recorded all these films at Christmas on my blank tapes, and then proceeded to watch them repeatedly until advances in technology brought DVDs into my life. When I want to relax in the days post-Christmas, these are the sorts of things that make me cheery. Best watched with excessive cheese and crackers. 

If you're still hungry for more inspiration, there's one final category. 

This could be a Bond family holiday
video from the 80s. Except it's not Wales,
and they're not visiting a coal museum.

3. Nostalgic Classics From Yesteryear 
This will be different for everyone. For me, it's filled with films like The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, One of Our Dinosaurs is Missing,** and The Wizard of Oz. Family films from years ago. My favourites often have a musical bent. Alternatively, growing up in the 80s meant family sci-fi was big business and formed my youthful Christmas film memories too. ET, Flight of the Navigator, War Games and D.A.R.Y.L. All of these are the kind of films that are snuck in at 10am on 23rd December, or filling the initial January schedules before school starts again. The listings are full of them if you look. Little gems you first saw years ago, that take you out of yourself for an hour or so. Indeed, a few days ago, when everyone who'd stayed for Christmas had left, and I'd hoovered up the sea of crumbs, baby wipes, and glitter that covered every flat surface in the house, I lay on the settee under a blanket with a mug of tea, and watched Mary Poppins. I spent the entire film dozing on and off but it was the loveliest come-down to a festive high that I could have possibly imagined. With added fairy lights. 

So now here we are. We're into the last hours of 2018, and are facing all the unknown that 2019 will bring. As I attempt to emotionally disentangle myself from the never-ending cheeseboard that is my fridge, I'd like to say thank you for reading. Happy New Year, and I hope marvellous things come your way in the future. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

*There was a bit of a drama in my attempts to record Last of the Mohicans. In 1995, I was 17 and money was tight. I had invested in a multi pack of blank vids - something like  £2.99 for ten tapes. (Can't remember exactly but it was an absolute bargain at the time.) On 22nd December I opened the pack and took out my first tape to record my first circled film from the TV guide. The TV wasn't on but I was in the lounge when it happened. About fifteen minutes from the end of the preset recording time, I heard a noise from the VCR. There was a bit of a whirr and a buzz and then a very distinctive snapping sound. The tape had broken. Knowing how much I loved the end titles (I'd seen it at my friends house and I knew the music in the last scene was the best part of the whole film) I rushed off to get another of my cheapo/potentially flawed video tapes and recorded the last ten minutes of the film. That same video was used the next day to record selected TOTP2 Christmas hits. For years later, I would rewatch the last ten minutes of Last of the Mohicans before segueing into Fairy Tale of New York, and associated the whole thing with Christmas festiveness. Happy memories. 

**I'll be honest, it's been years since I've seen this, but I really really liked it when I was little. I just have the sneaking suspicion that it's massively racist now. I don't want to find out for sure by rewatching in the cold light of adulthood. 

Have a Good One, Folks...

Happy Christmas Eve! Hello, there. I'm as giddy as a goat but I'm well aware it's not compulsory. If you don't celebrate Christmas, or are abstaining from the season for your own good reasons, then Happy Monday to you. I hope it goes well.

Even Nige is eye-rolling my ridiculousness.

I'm not going to ramble much now. I've been up at silly o'clock to pick up a turkey from a farm shop fourteen miles away. Yeah, I hate me too. That's just another level of self-indulgent. Christmas does seem to bring out my inner-Nigella. I've had my hair washed and cut so I can have some me-time, and I've also used the phrase 'me-time'. So far, the mercury is rising high on the pretension scale. Now, as I listen to Christmas music, with a 24-hour Christmas ham roasting in the oven and the turkey soaking in its spice bath outside the back door (I know, I know, I'm an actual arse) let me say thanks for reading, and I hope tomorrow is as much fun as you want it to be.

*Dressing gown
is model's own. 

As a festive treat, here is a photo. It is definitely Christmas morning, and if I had to guess, I'd say it was 1986. The exciting thing about this photo is that I'm modelling all my presents at once.* There's bangles, a snood, a belt (I got two - one red and one black) and of course, a sponge. Nothing celebrates the birth of Baby Jesus more, than a sponge. If you look to my right, you can just spot my little brother holding his sponge too. We all got one. Natch.

The other thing to share is something I've followed for a few years now. It's a funny/festive thing on Twitter. Every year Rhodri Marsden curates pictures of the best Christmas sleeping arrangements for people returning to the family home and being given a make-shift bed. Check out the hashtag #duvetknowitschristmas. It's become a Christmas morning tradition for me. There's something so deeply familiar about it, despite the fact I wake up in my own home. Still, have a look if you want to be amused.

For now, it's time to crack on. I have a list of food preparation jobs to complete. (Anyone want to devein a bag of raw prawns for me? Anyone?) I also need to chill TFO and make the most of my favourite season that's virtually done now. But enough! Time for me to shut up. Enjoy whatever shape the next few days take. See you on the other side. Merry Christmas, and of course...

...have a lovely week, folks.

I'm Not a Fan of Admin...

And now, as Big Frank informed us years ago, the end is near. The end of the year? Definitely  The end of civilisation as we know it? Very possibly, based on the political shenanigans of the past twelve months. The end of the creation of Leeza McAuliffe Has Something To Say? Oh yes. Very much the end of that. 

Writing and publishing a book is a long-winded process. It was last December I finished the first draft. Then, after a professional edit, and a bunch of family members reading, re-reading, critiquing, and correcting, it became the final version around September. Since then (apart from the continual re-reading, re-writing, and general tinkering that never stops) there's been a load of other stuff to do. Admin. Bloody admin. I left my last admin-heavy job in order to spend my days wafting around in a creative haze. I didn't appreciate how many online forms there would be in my new life.

My admin notebook.
No characters, plots,
or themes here.
 It's PURELY technical. 

So, with no expectation of being 100% correct about anything, here's my list of admin-based tasks that take place after writing a book. DISCLAIMER: This is not gospel. It's likely to be out of date within five minutes and will probably contain errors. Plus, I'm coming from a UK perspective. Always consult your own experts/search engines in the event of needing actual facts. But as a rough guide, and an outlet for my frustration and annoyance at the more technical aspects of book making, here we go.

ISBNs
If you want to publish a book, you need an International Standard Book Number. I bought ten numbers before my first book came out. (It was way more economical than buying one.) In the UK, it's Nielsen who'll sort you out. In the US, it's Bowker. All versions of your book need their own number, so the ebook and paperback are different. 

Template
I am not a typesetter, or a bookmaker, or a graphic designer. I know nothing of those skills. Indeed, it was a bit of an eyeopener when I realised that books weren't simply Word Docs bound together with a jazzy cover. Luckily for me, I stumbled across Joel Friedlander's book templates just in time for my first book to be done. It would have been a nightmare otherwise. The template enabled me to copy and paste the entire draft. It had preset fonts and spacings so I didn't need to worry about words getting trapped in the crease, or page numbers not following convention. (Did you even know odd numbers are ALWAYS on the right? I've been asleep this whole time.) It took about a week to transfer, and having done it once before, was infinitely easier second time round. 

See? It's a thing of beauty.
No worries here.

Cover
This was the easiest part because I didn't do anything. I have a cover man! He was fab, he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was the one area I didn't worry about for a second.

Publishing and Distribution Accounts
Some indie-publishers work solely with Amazon. I prefer to use Ingram Spark for my paperbacks, and Amazon (Kindle Direct Publishing) for my ebooks. This meant there were two accounts to set up before my book was available. (Everything gets sold through online channels such as Amazon, but Ingram Spark is responsible for printing and sending the paperback to the Amazon user who has purchased it.) Both KDP's and IS's set-up processes were similar. They wanted a short description of the story, the author's name, the date of publishing, and a bunch of other stuff.

Inside my admin notebook,
working out the economics
of different book sizes.

A Bunch of Other Stuff
Information like trim size, number of pages, keywords, who owns the rights, what territories you want to sell in, and how much you want to charge in each of those locations, were all pieces of information I needed to provide. I found myself doing random research about book prices in Canada, or trying to work out why Australia had such expensive books compared to the rest of the world. It was somewhere between interesting and stressful, depending on how busy I was at the time.

In order to choose the book size,
it came down to measuring
books with a tape measure.
Books that are similar in style
and 'look' were all a similar size too.
I ended up choosing 5 x 8 inches.

More Other Stuff - BIC codes
At one point in the setting-up process, I was asked for three BIC codes. (Pardon? What are BIC codes, you ask? Not a clue, pal. Sorry.) Once again, the Internet filled in the blanks. After a decent search, I learnt that BIC is Book Industry Communication and there are about a zillion categories that a book can come under. I found a list, worked out where my story of Leeza fitted, and added the top three category codes to the account. But that whole process took the best part of a day and I'm still not sure I got it right. Still. *nods and smiles in blissful ignorance.*

Registering with Nielsen
Once the book was set up and pre-ordering became available, I had to go back to Nielsen - remember the ISBN people? - and register the book. This involved another form to complete, but by that point I'd come across all the terminology before. I'm not sure why registering was necessary, but it was. It was also something I had neglected to do with my first book. When I searched for Carry the Beautiful on Nielsen's database, it was there but without my imprint being listed as the publisher. Booo! Luckily there was a simple enough process to 'claim the book' which meant another form, and another wait for a few days, but eventually it came through. I officially now have two books listed in an official capacity. Officially.

Still To Do
There's this thing called Legal Deposit. When your book is finally published, you need to send a copy to the British Library. I know! I find this hysterical. I can ONLY assume that they want to see a copy to believe it exists, scan the info, and then incinerate it. I mean, there cannot be a physical copy of every single thing ever written, can there? I've no idea. Last time, when I sent Carry the Beautiful to the British Library, I got a request for five more copies. A bunch of other libraries wanted them. (More info here.) If you're ever passing Aberystwyth, Edinburgh, Dublin, Oxford, or Cambridge, pop in and read my words!

And now it's time to go back to Sinatra. The end is nigh and the final curtain is well and truly being faced. This means I've done all the things above (apart from the Legal Deposit stuff which will be in March) and I'm ready to move on. After Christmas there'll be loads of urging the world to buy my book. Then March will be here and I'll bang on about it even more. Only then, can I shut up and start being creative again. (I've missed it so much.) For now, thanks for listening to my admin rant. It's made me feel a little better, at least.

Have a lovely week, folks.

A Seasonal Logic Puzzle

A dramatic interpretation of 'Watching the News'

These are troubling times. A quick perusal of the nightly headlines has become a stomach-churning affair. The government being found in contempt of parliament, the Mueller investigation gathering pace, the pound dropping like it's hot every time a politician opens their mouth. It is - in the words of Leeza McAuliffe, my new book's heroine - ALL kicking off.*

But these pressing issues aren't what's keeping me awake at night. Not even close. They may cause the odd shudder, or involuntary ejaculation of outrage when the smarmier of politicians' faces pop up on TV, but these problems are not my main concern right now. What IS my biggest headache, is much more important with far greater ramifications.

Readers, it's the Christmas dinner seating plan.

When I started hosting the family Christmas dinner four years ago, there were thirteen adults and one child. With the help of two folding wallpaper tables and an extendable oval dining table, I managed to create a shape large enough for all fourteen bodies to sit around. Mostly comfortably. Obviously, elbow room was limited, and the assortment of dining chairs, garden furniture and swivelly kitchen stools, added an amusing multi-heighted ambience to proceedings. But it was fine. It worked. We could all eat in the same place, at the same time, with as much festive cheer as our slightly cramped surroundings would allow.

Four years ago. Barely any of us there,
 and room for flowers and ev.

This year, through the marvellousness of an expanding family, we're up to sixteen bodies around the table. And herein lies the problem. No matter how many times I try, I cannot squeeze sixteen seats around a table that can only comfortably hold fourteen. It's not really the bodies that's causing the issue, it's the chairs. I can't squeeze any more chairs around the shape. Not one. And the stress of that has been keeping me awake at night. 

For mathsy people, this probably presents as an exciting logic problem. A bit of fun to ponder in a quiet moment. 'Derek** needs to fit sixteen chairs around two rectangles and one oval. Show your workings with diagrams, and what colour are the train driver's eyes?' I am NOT mathsy. I do NOT enjoy a shape puzzle. I want the setting up of the Christmas dinner table to be a five minute job where the biggest hassle is wiping off last year's gravy stains, NOT having to get a pen and paper and SKETCH OUT options. Honestly, I'm too busy for this stress.

In the end, I've had to do just that. The sleepless nights were catching up with me. I couldn't deal with all the uncertainty. With help from the measuring app on my phone, I worked out what space I had, and drew out a variety of table plans that could work. I know you'll be on the edge of your seat by now, so wonder no longer. Here they are...

The winning option

1. Two Long Tables 

By separating out the wallpaper tables into two long lines, both sides of each can be used. Three people can sit along each side, and there are four ends for a seat at each. That makes sixteen I believe. But...some people would have their backs to each other. And we'd all be split over two tables which would be weird.

2. Same As Normal But With A Kids' Table

This would be fine in theory except with the whole space being taken up with the table for fourteen, there is no room for a second little table for two.

3. An L Shape and a Kids' Table

The L shape can seat fourteen and in the inside of the L, there is space for a little table for two. But... no buts! It's the only option!

The 'special' menu

After that dazzling display of logistical problem solving, I messaged my sister. It occurred to me she might be annoyed that her kids weren't sitting with her for Christmas dinner (well I don't know, I'm not a parent!) and I thought I should check it was all right. There was also the worry that the Niece and Neph might take exception to being segregated, and it might cause tantrums and meltdowns. In the end, I was given the green light. Although my sister suggested we should make the kids' table sound like it was an important, exciting, special place to sit. With that in mind, I dusted off my Microsoft Publishing skills (it's been a while since I had to make a worksheet) and whipped up a menu. For the 'special' table. 

And now here we are. My nights can be spent, once again, in the comforting arms of sleep, and I've added and crossed off several things on my To Do list that weren't there last year. But at least I'm not getting preoccupied with Brexit. At least there's always that.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*She says that a lot. Mostly to do with drama with her mates or rows between her mum and grandmother.

** Derek, Judy, any name will do.

Festive Viewing, Part Two...

I know, I know. I can tell what you're thinking. It doesn't seem two minutes since my Festive Viewing, Part One guide, does it? Where HAS the time gone? Can you believe it has been a whole month since I urged you commence your Christmas TV viewing schedule? If you need a reminder, here's a recap. But, let's be honest, it's way too late to catch up now. All you can do is jump in feet first at this later stage, and hope you can whip up the good cheer that some of us have been madly excreting for the past month. 

If you've timed it right however, you've spent November gorging on the preliminaries, and now it's time to bring out the big guns. Christmas films! These can be watched in any order, but I have a personal system. I work from my least to my most favourite, getting progressively more Christmassy as the 25th approaches. You've got to make it work for you, it's your festive season, not mine. So, let's stop all this jibber-jabber and get cracking. Seatbelts on, tray tables up, and we're off. Festive films - let's go!

Nativity!

Not necessarily the best Christmas film ever, but the most realistic depiction of a fictional primary school that I can think of. The scenes where Martin Freeman teaches his class, are spot on. Especially his grumpiness and the way he has a quiet word with the kid that's messing about. You get the impression he did a bit of research by siting at the back of a teacher mate's classroom, watching how things go down. It's not just enjoyable for a realistic school depiction though. There are cute kids, emotive songs, and a heartwarming plot. Plus a final section that takes place in the ruins of Coventry catherdral under a twinkly night's sky. All very cockle-warming.

Trading Places

Let's be frank. This 1983 film contains both subtle and overt racism, two wholly unnecessary topless scenes, and implied bestiality. Happy Christmas everyone! Apart from 'all that', it holds up fairly well. Eddie Murphy is brilliant, the plot is pacy and interesting, and the ending is satisfying. The seasonal aspect to the film is almost incidental. It doesn't need to be set at Christmas to tell the story, but that's when it is, and so it's part of the viewing schedule. It delivers the message that kindness and respect are more important than wealth and social standing. The rich white guys turn out to be the nasty baddies, and the street wise prostitute and black grifter are the heroes we root for. Wince at the dated/offensive moments as they crop up, by all means, but relish every single moment that Eddie Murphy is on screen. 

The Holiday

It's fascinating that I love this film, when I find all four main characters insufferable. But I really do. Kate Winslet is the quaint-English-cottage-dwelling journalist who house-swaps over Christmas with LA-based movie trailer maker, Cameron Diaz. Their lives are polar opposites but both are unhappy in love. It should come as NO SURPRISE that as the film unfolds, they both get it on with local men - an insipid Jude Law and a sedated Jack Black - and a happy new year is had by all. Look, I know it sounds like I hate it, but I really don't. The inclusion of Eli Wallach as an elderly neighbour saves the whole film for me. Plus, the score lifts every scene. I tend to watch this as I'm cooking so I can watch the bits I love, tune out the parts that I find a bit cringe, and let the music fill the kitchen with loveliness.

While You Were Sleeping

This poses the question, 'Is the ideal man unconscious?' But as it asks that, it's also Christmas! The plot's a bit daft, but there are heart-warming moments to be had. After single and orphaned Lucy is invited to her pretend, unconscious, fiancé's family home for Christmas dinner, - still following? - the camera pans across the chattering family members as Lucy takes it all in. We see her experience being in the bosom* of a family for the first time in ages. It's so good. And then the plot kicks in and misunderstandings abound. But still. It's a lovely film. And there's snow too.

Home Alone

You know you want to. Treat yourself. It's time. Home Alone can never come too early in the run up. But then leaving it too late is a disaster. It's to be fully enjoyed, not squeezed in between wrapping presents and addressing envelopes. Timing and balance are everything. When you do sit down to wallow in Kevin's parent-free status, there's a game to play. In every scene, check out how many things you can see that are red and green. Whether it's costumes, props, home furnishings, or scenery - red and green are everywhere. It will blow your mind. (Except the scenes in France. They're filled with harshly unfestive blue. Booo.) 

Love Actually

I fell out of love, actually, with Love Actually for a while. There was something a bit off about the objectification of the female characters. They were stunning but with no personality. They were worshipped but had no agency. The exception was Emma Thompson. Her character had more going for it. She had a voice but was also depicted as fat and old. (She was neither!) And she had to put up with her story being the only one that ended unhappily against her will. I stopped watching it for a few years, with the view that it was of its time. But then last year on a random whim, I bought a ticket to watch a big screen viewing with a live orchestra. Despite my misgivings, the tingles it caused were beyond description. A live orchestra is always a bit tingly, but one playing the music that accompanies Colin Firth striding down the Portuguese street on the way to propose to the woman he loves, should be part of the dictionary definitions of SOARING, UPLIFTING, and GOOSEBUMPY. I've readmitted LA to my list now. Like The Holiday, the music carries it far. An excellent accompaniment to Christmas cooking.

Elf

As far as Elf goes, I'm a recent convert. I saw it for the first time three years ago, having avoided it till then because I was an adult and it looked liked a kids' film. Yeah, I was wrong. I know that now. It's properly boss. Laugh out loud funny, great for kids and adults alike, and full of quotable, meme-able moments. I save Elf for mid-December, but once I've broken the seal, it can be repeated on any quiet evening, as often as you like. It does not get old. Not ever. 'SMILING'S MY FAVOURITE.'

It’s A Wonderful Life

Now this ticks ALL my boxes. It's dark, it's bleak, and for much of the film, fairly depressing. The constant threat of financial ruin, the responsibility of running the town's Savings and Loan, and feelings of a life unfulfilled - George Bailey is dealing with a lot. We spend the vast majority of the 2 hour 10 minute running time with him in the depths of despair as he sees his life falling apart around him.  For a while it feels like the pay off is never going to come, but when it does, it's so sweet. The final fifteen minutes make it all worthwhile. A yearly treat, not to be missed.

Miracle on 34^th Street (1947)

Yay for a bit more black and white. It's a close call but I prefer this to the 1994 remake. Once again, this is a fuzzy fest of a romp that leaves tingles all over the show. (There's a bit of a theme here. I do like them tingles.) As a child who wasn't led to believe Father Christmas was real (because, well, he isn't. And it doesn't stop the jollity of the story just because you know the truth) I do find the plot fun. Because you can watch elderly Kris Kringle tell everyone he is Santa, see the adults assume he is mad, and then have the children's letters from the postal service save the day, whether you've been led to believe in the story, or not. It doesn't matter. It works either way, as lovely fictional fun. (For extra lols, click the link on the title above. The trailer is QUITE something. The golden age of Hollywood and all that.)

Miracle on 34^th Street (1994)

I don't even care that I just said I prefer the 1947 version. This one's got Matilda in it. FTW. Almost exactly the same in every way, except in colour. And despite me expressing a preference in the previous paragraph, it is perfectly acceptable to watch both films with equal gusto in your Christmas viewing schedules. 

A Very Murray Christmas

I think this is my actual favourite. I save it for the last few days of giddy build-up before the hosting jobs start. But be warned, it's not everyone's cup of tea. Put simply, it's like an old-skool Christmas special of yesteryear, except one that has nothing to do with Santa, children, or nativities. It's for secular, cynical, child-free adults - a demographic I happily embace. The premise is that Bill Murray is snowed in at the Carlyle Hotel in New York. His one-man show has been cancelled as no one can travel to see him. He grumpily sings his way through an impromptu evening of drink and food with 'waiters', 'his management staff', and 'other hotel guests' as random famous people pop up to 'do a turn'. Poehler, Clooney, Rock, Cyrus - it sounds terrible, but it's not. It's Christmas without the schmaltz. Christmas for adults. It's to be watched with the lights out, whilst swilling a good malt around a glass. And I don't even like malt. Whatever malt is.

So there we are. Assuming we've consulted our Festive Viewing Calendars on a daily basis, we should be up to speed. It's now Christmas Eve or thereabouts. Have you defrosted the turkey? Is the smell of Nigella's 24-hour ham wafting through the tinsel? Are you READY? There are a couple of days of lull or panic now, depending on your plans, and then it's time for my Festive Viewing, Part Three. Oh yes, it's not over yet. No way. There's a huge amount of potential for utilising the post-Christmas slump between Boxing Day and the first week of January. I'll be back nearer the time to advise accordingly. Till then, enjoy the glow! Feliz Navidad! Fröhliche Weihnachten! Joyeux Noël! God Jul!

Have a lovely week, folks.

*tee hee