I wrote this last week. Now I have a cold.
With half a bottle of Rioja in me, and the Beastie Boys "Ill Communication" on the stereo thinks are going swimmingly.
Happy New Year, and that sort of thing.
Well, apparently this blog has been going for an entire year now, though I can't claim the volume or quality of posts is of particular note. Got engaged, got promoted, went to Geneva, Bangkok, Bonn, up to Mosel, across to Forth and around Suffolk. Oh, and to Bali.
But what does it all mean? What does the fact that I've written more about the political situation in Pakistan than about my fiancée?
Things are pretty much as they were a year ago, engagement aside. Kate and I are still living in Battersea with Win, although our view of the Thames is becoming gradually more obscured as new flats are constructed. We still have a tiny sliver of water, visible above the helipad.
We still don't own a bed, which is a slight concern. I'll consider I've made it when I own a bed. And a fridge. And washing-machine. I have got a nice tailcoat, however.
Wedding planning is going ahead. Venues are booked, we are looking into buses (not literally) and Kate is having some sort of dress-thing made. I'm not going to spoil the surprise by looking at it before the ceremony. Of course, there's the possibility it might clash with my lilac dress suit and green waistcoat, but I'll take the risk.