Dommage de Fromage

What did I eat today? Two clementines, a whole team of cheese footballs and half a chocolate Santa (Lindt, of course).
Then I went to Viv Albertine's Christmas leftovers party, armed with some more cheese footballs and pistachio nuts (and a chocolate Santa for her daughter, Lindt of course). The table was piled with turkey sandwiches, pasta, nuts and cheese, and half a Christmas pudding.
I met a chap I went to Art College with in Brighton, Dave McFall, who is an animator and who is married to  Sally, who was in a band called Ut in the 1980s. Dave has not changed at all, and he showed me an animated Milka cow he had made using the hand-drawn animation technique which is fading out of fashion, but which will come back into fashion again ( a bit like vinyl recordings, as his partner pointed out). It was really cute, a little purple and white cow on his mobile phone screen.
I also met a writer, Lindsey Shapero, who used to be a journalist for the New Musical Express when I was in Helen and the Horns, and who now writes TV dramas. Lindsey also has not changed at all, apart from her dress style: she used to be a biker girl clad head to toe in black leather, zipping up and down the UK motorways documenting the exploits of King Kurt. I had always wondered what happened to her as she was great fun, so it was rather nice to see her again. She wrote the funniest ever review of the band and was definitely their most intelligent fan.
Viv was looking spectacularly beautiful, and so was Gina; we talked about our gig in Gateshead in February, which will be a great adventure: three rock'n'roll mamas (quite literally) heading up the A1 with a Fender Twin Reverb in the boot of the car and assorted fabulous guitars.
The party became more and more full: Tessa was arriving just as I was leaving to see if I had any more cheese footballs at home.
One of the guests had carried off the tin with great glee and had to be asked to return it, sadly depleted, so that Gina and I could finish them off.
Cheese footballs, the heart of Christmas joy.

The boot of my car is full of hundreds of cocktail sausages. It's my birthday tomorrow and Bruv is throwing a party for me. There is no room in the fridge, so the sausages are keeping cool out there in the winter's night, tempting the urban foxes with their delicious aroma.
I expect to wake tomorrow morning to a fleet of tawny foxes circling the car, eyes glinting and noses twitching, oblivious to the early morning shoppers.
Can't wait!