Echoes: The Ramble

I understand the delusion that those awful singers with the overly supportive parents on XFactor are under, finally. I just had a conversation on the phone where after every sentence my own voice replied with the exact same sentence (obviously) and I swear, the voice I hear in my head does not sound THAT much like my Mother's.

I can hear the group of women smoking outside through the intercom. It happens sometimes when I don't put the phone down properly, and it's always more interesting to leave it than to put it back. Particularly when I'm playing Christmas songs loudly in the office... they hear my overenthusiastic singalong and I hear their conversations. They're talking about the weather. It's cold out apparently.

" I turned my face away and dreamed about you"

Every year Christmas gets here faster than I can arrange the presents. You'd think it would be hard to be crept up on when you are revelling in the creeper. It's like a relationship that ends ever so suddenly, you're so busy being happy and enjoying the perfection of it all you forget to remember they're a bastard.

Bitter sweet I know, but I hope you enjoy it like you enjoy Fairytale of New York by The Pogues.

Cos everyone loves The Pogues. You can't dismiss someone with such icky teeth. You have to pay attention, even if you don't mean to. You have to keep looking. Or listening, as it were.

All of today I've heard the word "Christmas" from everyone who cares to get within earshot. I'd say it's deja vu but, you know, its the 16th of December. It happens. But everyone says it in the same voice. A sort of exasperated tone with a mix of joy and stressed out eagerness, a tone that is repeated every year, like an echo.

Here's a jolly thought: Mulled Wine is only £2.75 around the corner, in a pub full of fabulous people in the Theatre industry. I can tell they are because Thespians wear great shoes. And talk about them. A lot.

"Bought these brogues for the Lost Christmas Press Night tonight"

"Fabulous darling"

Blooming Marvellous.