Richard Baum

I hope everyone had a nice Christmas / Chanukah / opportunity to take advantage of the Godly and simply eat mince pies for no reason. I certainly did, as I presume did the good people at Wordpress who have ensured that the blog has been down and completely inaccessible to me and the world since Christmas Eve. So sorry for the lack of updates. It ain’t my fault, guv. 

Santa was as generous as ever, finding room in his sleigh for all manner of little gifts marked “FAO Cllr Richard Baum,” including several DVDs, a worrying array of books that there’s simply no chance I’ll get through before we all do this again next year, and most excitingly of all a TELESCOPE that I can look at the stars through. I mean the celestial bodies of course, not that fit one off Holby City, although if the opportunity arose to peer at her through a lens capable of fabulous levels of magnification, I may indulge. But only cos it’s Christmas.

The dazzling array of prezzies was confirmation, were it needed, that I have been good this year, and thus puts pay once and for all to any rumours to the contrary circulating in opposition leaflets distributed throughout the ward in these last twelve months.

I was delighted that the presents I bought also went down very well. Tamsin was all giddy about the books I got her, as well as the “Snuggle Bottle” which she had been banging on about all year. It’s some kind of hot water bottle which men stare at blankly whilst women shriek as if it’s a unicorn dancing the rhumba with Lord Lucan. It seemed to do the trick, although apparently was stolen by her sister soon afterwards.

Mac, the three-legged cat with whom we share our lives, was also not fogotten by Santa or his elves. He was given a rustly tunnel to run about in, and some toy mice infused with cat nip. As promised on the box, they did indeed send him to the heights of ecstasy, and I was worried for the stability of the tree at one point when he became hugely over-excited at the prospect of playing with the mice in the tunnel on Christmas morning. 

I have eaten my own body-weight in outrageously unhealthy food, and my body is almost audibly shrieking for the detox-cum-diet-cum-exercise regime which I will start in the new year and finish shortly thereafter. I don’t know whether “five a day” extends to packets of crisps, but if so then I am a picture of health.

Unfortunately there seems no immediate sign of an end to the slovenly behaviour, as I remain off work for a week and have just spent three dozen completely unnecessary pounds in the HMV sale on DVDs which can only be watched whilst munching chocolate or crisps according to an actual statute of parliament.

My efforts to keep on top of my Council emails have also been thwarted over the last couple of days. I took Christmas Day itself off, as I hope did anyone thinking of emailing me, but since then I’ve not been able to log on due to what I can only assume is post-Christmas server malfunction. The people at the Microsoft Email Exchange are obviously at the same Bahamian beach resort as the people at Wordpress, downing cocktails and lazing about rather than allowing me to do what I like. So if anyone has emailed, that’s why I’ve not responded. It couldn’t have been that urgent, because the only person to have rung me in all this time is my mother.

Which, whilst I love her dearly, is fairly depressing. I hear that stuffing ones-self with food is a good comforter, so I am going to head downstairs and eat something I shouldn’t.

Rick