If it was automatic writing it would go like this:

Christmas, vegi turkey, pine needles, Dylan Moran live, furious mild, parsnips, wine, annual snowball, killer Santa with the face of an angel, new slippers, pine needles, sprouts, glass of wine, wrapping paper that burns green and blue, Deal or No Deal DVD to take back, near riot for 10p Cauliflowers (do all these people know something I don't know, are the shops never opening again?), falling asleep, flicking through new cookbooks, forbidden foodstuffs, dream about a sex act I don't want to talk about, fridge too full, overspilling wardrobe, must have a sort out- too much shite all around in general, but at least it's covered in glitter, new Sharon Olds book- mustn't read it while I have to be happy all day, x-factor tickets ticking like a timebomb in my head- is she really going to make me hold an Eton Road banner?, will I gain seven pounds if I have another beer? pine needles, baubles falling when I walk past, -1 outside, can I free-cycle chocolate? that sinking feeling when it's over, and also thinking at least it's just once a year.

None of this would be too bad, except it's where I live now, about all I have to say till after new years day.