I am most definitely not fit to write.
I have consumed far more alcohol than is sensible for any diarist, or indeed for any taxi driver, NHS worker, bank clerk, gamekeeper or even peer of the realm. In short, I have drunk more than anybody should, and I think would very much like to be asleep.
I am bravely writing to you, however, even as my eyes close and my mind wanders off into the other worlds of semi-conscious daydreaming.
We are in the beautiful Midland.
It is being refurbished. It has been taken over by somebody new and they have done all sorts of interesting and creative things to it.
Not least they have changed the Christmas decorations. Gone is the muted green-and-gold, and in its place is glittery white and blue, with several life-sized reindeer dotted about the atrium.
I am not sure what I think about this.
I like overstated bling more than anybody I have ever met. Subtle is a word in my vocabulary only insofar as I have heard other people use it. I know that it exists but I have never tried it.
All the same it is quite shocking to see familiar warmth replaced, especially by an excess of chilly sparkle. It is everywhere, plastic glittery blue holly adorns every surface, and I do not know if I like it.
All the same, it is very nice indeed to be here. I am writing this from a fresh-laundered white bed in a newly refurbished bedroom. Mark is just dozing off next to me, having spent a few minutes sitting in the edge of the bed worrying about having drunk too much.
He is right about this. We are not going to feel brilliant in the morning.
We have been out with our family and friends.
We arrived here late this afternoon and dumped our entire collection of car and luggage at the front door so that we could go and look found the last minutes of the Christmas markets. Because this is the lovely Midland, of course when we came back later the car had been tidily stashed away in the car park, and all our luggage was neatly hung in our bedroom. In the meantime we had ambled around drinking mulled wine, which turned out to have come from the Lakeland shop directly opposite our house, and spent all of our Christmas money on books.
I am too drunk to describe the evening coherently, and longing to be asleep. We met up with everybody in the lovely hotel lobby and went for a buffet dinner at the International Buffet. These are a good idea if you have got children, because they can indulge their irritating food fads without your needing to notice that they have only eaten prawn crackers and pizza. In the meantime you can drink a great deal and eat lots of things that you would never bother faffing about cooking at home.
After the dinner we retreated to the comfortable welcome of the hotel lounge, where we drank a lot more.
This was a bad move.
We had a lovely time. It is such a shame that nice things should really be done in such tiny moderation. I wish I could drink wine until midnight and explain my ideas for international policies and world improvements without feeling truly rubbish the next day.
It is too late for this regret.
I am so sorry. I know this is a rubbish diary entry, but my eyes are closing with a force I can hardly resist any more.
I will try again tomorrow. It has been lovely.
