I found out today that Salma Hayek has joined the cast of the Cirque Du Freak movie -- cause for celebration, in my opinion!!! I think Hayek is a rarity in the acting world -- a beautiful woman who is also a very strong actress. She will be playing Truska, the bearded lady, a role that has been expanded from the books -- she'll be a more important character in the film, with more to do. If it goes well, I suspect beards may become the de rigeur fashion accessory for high society women next year -- my advice to all you ladies is to buy yours now, before prices sky-rocket!!! 

I edited another 50 pages of City of the Snakes -- I'm hoping to finish it over the weekend, although it might trickle over into Monday. I also finally finished packaging all of the prizes for the competition I ran on the Shanville Monthly in December -- I've been working on those all week, a few every night!!! Contrary to what many of you might think, I don't have a secretary. The redoubtable Pablo collects all of my mail for me, and writes the addresses on the return envelopes before passing them on to me, but I do everything else myself, from filing all my paperwork to checking emails from fans to updating my web site to packaging and posting prizes in competitions that I run. (I'm big into recycling, so all of the books are sent out in recycled envelopes or boxes -- of course, I have to peel off the old address stickers from them first, which can often take a few minutes, and then sellotape them shut.) I probably should have somebody doing all of that stuff for me, leaving me free just to write. But ... well ... I like doing it!!! It can be annoying and dull at times, but I think it's kind of cool. If I was a kid writing to one of my favourite authors, I'd love to think of them personally sending a book to me, and picking at a Play.com sticker and cursing because the damn things are so securely stuck on and they're just trimmed their fingernails!! It's very easy to let yourself be separated from your fanbase if you enjoy a little success, but I think that's a bad thing. If it ever becomes unavoidable -- if the books get so popular that I'm receiving more mail than I can cope with, or if my personal life changes (e.g. if I have kids, or my health deteriorates) and it proves too much a of a hassle, then obviously I'll hire in some help. But as long as I can, I want to struggle on by myself. Bridging the gap between myself and you lot just tickles my fancy!!!!!

Have a great weekend, y'all -- and ladies, I'm serious about those beards!!!!!

I've been hard at work on editing City of the Snakes. I've been getting through more than 50 pages every day. I haven't had to make any real structural changes, just tighten it up a lot. There was a nice twist halfway through, a scene that made me grin when I came back to it again. Most of the time when I'm writing, I don't think about my audience or consider how people are going to react. But every so often I find myself thinking about my readers and how they'll respond, and those are some of the best moments of writing for me. I'm certain, when people who've read the first two books come to this point, they're going to have the same grin on their faces that I had when I hit it yesterday, and that connection - even though nobody will get to read the book for another two years - pleases me greatly. What's even better is that it's a twist that sharp readers will be able to anticipate if they're paying attention, but one that I think most will miss. Those are always my favourite twists -- the ones which are obvious in retrospect (such as the one involving the title in Book 12 of The Saga, or Harkat Mulds or Juni Swan's true identities), but which most readers never realise until it's revealed, at which point they groan, "Why the hell didn't I see THAT coming?!?"

Of course, those who DO see it coming never have quite the same reaction -- indeed, some don't like it when I allow them to second-guess me; they want complete surprises, twists that are impossible to predict. (They're wrong, by the way, as I've said before -- the best twists are always those which can be predicted. A good story should always signpost its twists, not TOO obviously, but having unexpected things happen all the time, just to keep throwing readers, is bad story-telling.) Those people often find it hard to believe that not all readers saw what they saw. Like those who figured out the twist in The Sixth Sense, they think that surely EVERYONE must have been able to do it, since - to them - it's so obvious. But that's the trick about a really cool twist -- yes, it IS obvious when you figure it out, but most people don't!!! After book 10 of The Saga came out, my Message Boards were full of people claiming they'd cracked the Harkat mystery far in advance, and saying how obvious it was, and anyone who didn't see it coming was a fool -- but I have a long memory, and I can't recall more than 2 or 3 mentioning it before that book was released. Maybe all those super-sleuths kept quiet beforehand, so as not to spoil the twist for others. Or maybe they were just being wise after the fact ...

Anyway, I love a good, slyly telegraphed twist, and City of the Snakes contains one of my favourites, so I hope you all enjoy it when you get to read the book in 2010!!!!

On the movie front, recently I saw Notes on a Scandal, a very sly, dark comedy (or tragedy, depending on how you look at it), brilliantly acted and sharply paced -- strongly recommended. I finally caught up with The Faculty (I can't believe I never saw it before!!), and while it's totally throwaway trash, it's nicely handled and lots of fun. Thank You For Smoking is an amusing satire of the spin-doctor syndrome, which neatly avoids the sentimental pitfalls such films normally fall into. And I've just seen half of the third Pirates of the Caribbean film -- I'll probably watch the second half later tonight. Johnny Depp is still wonderful as Captain Jack, and the effects are commendable, but boy is it long!!! The second film was at least half an hour too long, and this one's even longer!! I really do enjoy this series, but how much better it would have been if someone had just told the director to make each segment no longer than two hours ... Aaarrrrrrr!!!!!!

Edited another 50-plus pages of City of the Snakes. I'm flying through it. It's been so long since I last worked on it that it's a pleasure to read. I'm sure, as I re-edit it over the next couple of years, that I'll start to tire of it by the end, as I always do -- you reach a point on any book where it becomes a burden, something you just want to be rid of, to launch at the world and never have to read through again. But at the moment I'm having a blast!!! I definitely think it's a strong story. It builds neatly, smoothly, getting darker and more twisted with every chapter. The strange thing is I can't recall how I put it together in the first place, where the initial ideas came from, how I plotted it, what was there in the first draft and what I added or altered later. I can clearly remember certain books that I've written, where I was when I first thought of them, how they changed in later drafts, what I was thinking and what I wanted to do with them. But others are mysteries, books that I look back on years later and wonder, "Where the hell did THAT come from?!?" This is one of those. I KNOW I wrote it, that I developed the characters and wove all the plot lines together, and I recall what's coming next as I move along, further into the story, jumping at least one step ahead every time I come to a twist. But I can't for the life of me actually remember writing it!!!!

That might see unusual, but for me it isn't. I'm always looking ahead to the next book, eager to try something new, to move forward. I'm not a writer who works exclusively on one book for years at a time, who has only a few stories to tell, who creates one body of work that he knows inside out. I love to experiment, to set new goals, to scale new heights and plumb new depths. What I've done in the past doesn't really interest me -- I'm only bothered about what lies ahead, what I can do next, where I'll go from here. When I'm done with a book, I usually forget about it. If I have to return to it -- as I have done with my City Trilogy -- I know I can hit the ground running and slip back into the world of the book with ease. Otherwise it's history, and while it might be history that I'm proud of, history that I remember fondly, history that defines who I am and how I'll best be remembered, it's still the past, and the past is dead as far as I'm concerned. Maybe one day I'll stop and re-read all my old work and pat myself on the back and live in the past. That won't be so bad if I do -- nothing wrong with nostalgia. But for the time being I'm running with new ideas, looking forward, focused on the next challenge. I'm not averse to cannibalising my past work, as I'm doing with this book, but I don't want to live in the past. There are too many stories I still want to tell -- I don't have time to look back and remember.

I started to re-edit City of the Snakes, the third book of my adult-orientated City Trilogy, to be released in the UK and Ireland under my D. B. Shan banner in March 2010. That might seem like a long way off, but time passes very quickly in this business and I always like to work on a book far ahead of its publication -- that way I never have to rush it.

City of the Snakes was never published. The first two books didn't do very well when first released, and it became clear as I was working on the book that it wouldn't see print. But I didn't care. I had a story to tell, and I felt compelled to see it through to the finish. I only did a few drafts, not wanting to devote too much time to it until and unless it had a real chance of being published, but I never forgot it. For more than six years it hovered in my thoughts, awaiting my return. I saw it as unfinished business, a book I would definitely return to and publish, even if I had to self-publish it or release it as a web-only book.

In a way, I've been working on this story for about 20 years now. It has its origins in a book about a vigilante that I tried to write when I was 16, 17 or 18 (something like that). I didn't get very far with it, but I cannibalised the story some years later and incorporated some of the ideas into a new book I was playing with, a book that would tie together the stories of Capac Raimi and Al Jeery (the lead characters of Procession of the Dead and Hell's Horizon), and take them into new, uncharted territories. I remember thinking, at the time (this would have been back in the middle of 2000), that this was by far and away the best book for older readers that I'd ever written, a book that brought together the imaginative twists of Procession and the more solid structure and pace of HH, and married them both in a novel of fire and death and damnation and possible redemption. It was big, high-stakes stuff, an attempt to blend Stephen King with James Ellroy, to mix horror with a detective story, the supernatural with a shamus. (Unknown to me, John Connolly was doing something similar around the same time. One of the reasons I like his books so much is that I see shades of what I was trying in them.)

I was a bit nervous coming back to City yesterday. I couldn't recall too much about the structure of the book, or what happened in it, but I had a very high impression of it. I was worried it might not stand up all these years later, that I'd over-judged it, that it would disappoint.

But it didn't. The story sucked me in almost immediately. Seven years were stripped away the second I started editing, and I find myself caught up in it as if I'd only set it aside yesterday. I'm always astonished by how easy I find it to pick up the reins of an old novel. While I might not remember much about my past work in the more immediate part of my brain, obviously I have all the stories mapped out on a deeper level, patiently waiting for me to return to them.

I often talk about the need for young authors to be patient. I think it's the hardest part of being a writer -- having to accept that it will take time, that a story you start today might not see print for two, five, ten, even twenty years. I didn't WANT to still be working on this story when it first breathed life 20 or so years ago. I didn't sit at my desk and think, "This is pretty good -- I'll kick it around for a couple of decades and see how it develops!" I wanted it to be great THEN, to write it perfectly THEN, to release it THEN. I think most young writers want to succeed immediately, and I don't think that's a bad thing to want -- if you're not hungry for success when you're starting out, you never will be. But you need to accept that things might not happen as swiftly as you'd like. You need to accept that there's a bigger picture, that some stories won't work out (for whatever reason) the way you planned them, or even when you planned them. You need to have faith, and believe that everything feeds into everything else, that even your supposed failures are part of future successes, that one day you'll reap the benefits of the hard work you're putting it, the hard work that nobody sees or respects or has any interest in.

(When I say "benefits", I'm talking about the benefits of writing a story you can be proud of -- financial benefits should be neither here nor there when it comes to judging your own success. Others will judge you that way, but to a writer TRUE success should come with writing a damn fine story. If other people don't realise its merits, and fame and fortune never comes -- so be it. The prize should be the work itself, not what others pay you for it.)

Writing isn't quick. It isn't easy. It can be soul-destroying, not finding the words you're searching for, not being able to take your stories out into the world, struggling on the path you've chosen, mocked by those who don't understand the industry or what it involves. If you choose to be a writer, you set yourself up for failure and bitterness and hardship. Virtually every writer has experienced it. I bet J K Rowling has never forgotten what it was like to be rejected. Stephen King was turned down many times. J R R Tolkien tasted apathy too. It's part and parcel of being a writer. But you can't afford to let that depress you. You mustn't let your head drop. You have to fix your eyes on the horizon of the future and imagine a day -- maybe years, maybe decades ahead -- when everything will click and advances will be made and dreams will be realised. It can be -- and will be -- difficult at times. But any dream worth having is a dream worth fighting for and struggling for and hurting for. By the time City of the Snakes sees print, I'll have been working on it in one form or another for close to a quarter of a century. Will it be worth it? Can any book justify that amount of time and effort and patience?

You can bet your bloody life on it!!!! If you're a writer -- a REAL writer -- taking your story all the way to publication is worth all that and more, much more. The setbacks, the pain, the mishaps ... you forget all of those. At the end of the day, seeing your work in print is the only thing that matters, the only prize you cherish, the only thing you'll remember when you're old and grey and your mind has started to wander. Twenty years sounds like a long time, but in the telling of a story it's just the blink of an eye, the drawing of a breath ... the dreaming of a dream.

Went for a walk along Southbank yesterday, and popped into the Tate Modern so that Bas could see the infamous "crack". As we came out, she spotted a large spider sculpture outside (I'd seen it before) by Louis Bourgeois. We'd seen one like it in Roppongi when we were in Tokyo in the summer, so she was intrigued. We found out there was an exhibition of Bourgeois' work on, so we went to see it. I was very impressed -- a large body of interesting, creative work. Not everything caught my fancy (but then, no artist has ever produced an entire body of work which appeals equally to their admirers -- we all react differently to each individual piece of art), but most of it impressed, and it was very well laid out. I was also startled by the fact that she was born in 1911, is still alive (meaning she must be 96 or so now) and still working!!!! The exhibition is finishing soon, but if you're in London and you get a chance to see it, do pop along.

Later we went to the BAC (Battersea Arts Centre) to see Masque of the Red Death, a "promonade performance" by the Punchdrunk theatre group. This has been claimed by most critics as the theatrical event of 2007 -- almost every review I read said it was an amazing experience. Basically, the company took over a huge building and re-designed every room, taking the stories of Edgar Allen Poe as their theme. They also stage adaptations of his stories every night, but not in a linear fashion -- they break them up, and the acts take place all over the building, and you have to wander around and try to find them by yourself. If that sounds confusing, don't worry -- it confused me too!!! In fact, I was very wary of this show. Because it was so different to anything else I'd ever seen, I wasn't sure I'd like it. It's completely sold out, even though it's been extended to April, and I had to pay way over the odds on Ebay to get the tickets. I thought I might end up regretting the purchase, that I might come away snorting in disgust and bewilderment. At best I thought it might amuse me for an hour or so, and then Bas and I could leave early for a quiet night in.

Readers, it was probably the BEST show I have ever witnessed in my life.

It was an amazing experience -- and I use that word purposefully, because this wasn't a show you watched, it's a show you got involved in. When you enter the building, you are given a mask which you must wear at all times, and told to be silent. You then wander through a series of strangley decorated rooms, all gloomy and very atmospheric. The attention to detail is astonishing -- it really is like stepping into another, fully realised world. At first it's rather overwhelming, and it all seems to be impressive but untheatrical -- it took us a while to find any actors, and then longer to stumble into any actual stories. But the wait was well worth it. We began to get glimpses of scenes taking place as we moved further into the building. In one room a man ranted and raved, talking to thin air. Two men staged an acrobatic fight on a huge flight of stairs. We started to follow one of them (the actors trail around the building in what seem like random patterns, but aren't), then an eerie, troubled-looking woman caught our attention and we following her up a tight set of stairs, through an attic, to a small, tense room, where we and two other lucky people saw an adaptation of "The Tell-Tale Heart", one of my favourite Poe stories of all, and mesmerically done here.

There was one large scene, spread out over a number of rooms, based mostly on "Fall of the House of Usher", which we gradually managed to piece together and make sense of by viewing bits of it at various times of the night. We caught a tiny snippet of "The Black Cat" but no more than that. We found the Palais Royale after a long, frustrated search, where we took off our masks, had a drink and watched some wonderful cabaret acts which would have been the main draw at most shows. And then, after some more wandering, we and all the others were whisked off to the titular Masque, to witness a flamboyant Dance of Death. There was even a party with a band afterwards (Katie Melua was rumoured to be perfoming at 23.00!!), but it had been a long day and we were exhausted, so we left about 22.30 to make our way home in wonderment.

This really was a most astonishing experience. As I said, it's sold out, but tickets are on sale on eBay. If you have the funds, or can convince someone to buy you one for a birthday or whatever, I recommend you go. It's a one-off marvel which will be talked about for years. If you miss it now, you'll regret it, as it will probably never be staged again.

We flew back to Ireland this afternoon, and the first thing we did when we got in was watch the 1964 Roger Corman movie of Masque of the Red Death. Bas had never seen it, and although I've seen it many times since first catching it when I was a child, I'm always happy to watch it again. It's a wonderful film, not so much a horror flick as a mood piece. Corman made dozens of films over the years, most of them low-budget and low-quality. But most of his Poe adaptations stand out from his body of work, and this is his masterpiece, an Ingmar Bergman-inspired exploration of good, evil, God, the Devil, and much, much more. Some of the actors are average, and the prose is purple in places, but it's a movie I can watch over and over, whether I'm 10, 20, 30 or 35 -- and there are precious few of those around!!! Unlike the show, the film is readily accessible, and I highly recommend it. Not as magical or awe-inspiring as the show, but an unsettling, strangely beautiful piece that will linger long in your memory and inspire many brooding thoughts and dreams ...

Spent most of yesterday putting together the latest issue of the Shanville Monthly. Then, after dinner in Giraffe (a very nice chain of restaurants in the UK), we went to see Chatroom/Citizenship at The National. Two short plays, written for teenagers by established playwrights, and cast mostly with teens or young adults, they were very impressive. They were issue-based, a bit simplistic in places, but on the ball most of the time. Good plays for teenagers to either put on themselves, or just watch, and interesting for old fogeys like me too. The best thing was the length -- an hour or less each. I LOVE short plays!!! Too many plays drag on far longer than they need to, for two and half or three hours. One of the things I love most about the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is that most plays run for about an hour, so if you don't like what you're watching, you don't have to suffer for long. These reminded me of being in Edinburgh, so it was a highly pleasing night.

Today I went to pick up some paintings that I bought recently. Walked through Green Park to get one of them -- I love walking through there, watching the squirrels foraging for food, the ducks and strange birds that linger round the lake. A few days ago a couple of big pelicans were standing still in the middle of a path, crowds of tourists around them, as if posing for photos! I took parks for granted when I was younger -- they were just places to run about in, or shortcuts to places I wanted to go -- but now I love a good stroll through a nicely put together park. Maybe that's a sign that I'm getting old ...

Speaking of getting old, I received an email today asking if I was more scared of horror when I was younger -- the person had read an article which claimed that we got less scared of horror movies and books the older we got. Actually, I find it's the opposite. While I certainly think our imaginations run wilder when we're younger, I think horror works better the older you get. At least that's been my experience, and I've heard other people say the same thing. I happily sat through horror movies when I was a teen, waiting for the scary bits, longing for them, never feeling REALLY scared, loving the gross bits, laughing more than I screamed. These days they hit me harder. I find myself tensing, hoping the film doesn't go TOO far. I wince at cruel, bloody scenes which would have made me smile fifteen or twenty years ago. I think most people get more sensitive as they grow older, more wary of what they know can be a hard world. Of course teenagers are aware of death and suffering, but I don't think it seems quite as real as it does to adults -- because we're closer to it than most teens and children, we feel the Grim Reaper breathing down our necks more keenly than they do. That doesn't hold true in every case, of course -- I got another email today from a girl whose mother is dying, so I'm sure that girl is sadly all too aware of how nasty and hurtful the world can be -- but I think it's a general rule. So those of you who get a buzz out of horror, but wish you could be more scared than you are, don't worry, you probably will be one day. The trouble is, you probably won't WANT to be scared so much then ...

Be careful what you wish for, Shansters!!!!!!!

Oh, almost forgot, I went to see I Am Legend tonight. It wasn't especially scary, even for a quivering old pile of bones and jelly like me, but it had some nice, creepy moments, and was very well filmed. Not a must-see, but worth a look.

Happy New Year everyone!! I hope 2008 brings you lots of happiness and success, and proves to be your best year ever -- at least so far!!!

Bas and I walked to John Lewis on the 31st to pick up food we'd ordered for our party. Then, after setting up much of the flat for it, we went to see The Kite Runner at the cinema. I enjoyed it a lot -- in fact I'd cite it as one of my favourite films of 2007!!! It's a beautifully told story about a man who lets cowardice hurt him and his friend when he's a boy, and his attempt many years later to atone for his weakness. It was lovely to end the year with such an unexpected cinematic treat, and I just hope the first film I see in 2008 is even half as good as this one!!

After that we returned to the flat, finished getting ready, then started greeting our guests about 20.00. Our new flat overlooks the back of the London Eye, so we had an excellent view of the fireworks at midnight, which was why we opted to have the party in the first place. And the show didn't disappoint -- the Eye and sky were set aflame with pyrotechnical wizardry and for ten minutes we watched on from one of the best vantage points in the entire city. Nice!!!! The party rocked on long afterwards -- we had about 25 people around, mostly family, but some friends too, and everyone had a fun time. We drank, ate, sang, danced, and next thing I knew it was 05.30 and it was over!!!! Bas and I were exhausted (hosting a party takes it out of you, especially if you throw yourself into it as we like to do), but we went for a short walk over the river, along the bank, then back round to our flat, just to calm down and get a bit of fresh air. It was an odd but nice feeling, walking along the almost deserted streets, the evidence of the hundreds of thousands of party-goers all around, but all the people having seemingly vanished. When we got back, we slept until after midday, then went up to Covent Garden for dinner in TGI Fridays, and I watched Spurs lose 2-1 on TV to Aston Villa -- not the best of starts to the New Year!!!

I enjoyed the party last night a LOT. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of parties, whether for weddings, engagements or other reasons. My favourite parties were those thrown just for the hell of it, where everyone could have fun -- a barbecue because the weather was nice, or a party because someone from another country was visiting. We didn't have many parties -- they seem to have become more popular now than they were in the 1980s, at least in my experience -- but the good ones stand out in my mind even 20 years later, parties where I was able to run around freely, where older family members got a bit tipsy and sang or danced or told rude jokes, where everyone was happy, where the food was good and never seemed to end. I think a good party is one of the best things we can enjoy in life, so although it's a lot of hassle getting it ready, and you have to clean up afterwards (I didn't enjoy mopping the floors with a hangover today!), and it can be quite costly to arrange ... it's worth it. To experience a few hours of total joy with people you like or love ... celebrating nothing more than the fact that you're all alive and together ... acting a bit foolishly and not giving a damn because it's only in front of your family and friends, and they're acting foolishly too ...

Is there anything better in life? It doesn't seem so to me. I hope, many years from now, when I'm lying on my deathbed and thinking my last few thoughts, that I don't remember the bad stuff, the times I was weak or cowardly (and I think we all have moments of weakness and cowardice in our lives), the regrets, the mistakes, the setbacks, the losses. I just want to remember the parties.

Went to see King Lear on Saturday. Ian McKellen stars in it. I've seen him in a few plays over the years, but I've never seen him do Shakespeare. When I found out he was doing probably my favourite Shakespeare play of all, I HAD to go, even though it meant not going to see my beloved Spurs in action (and they won 6-4, apparently the most exciting game of the season -- sod's law!!). It was a very good production, though perhaps a little stodgy in parts. But McKellen was great, everything I expected -- indeed, I got a little bit more, because at one part he dropped his trousers and showed off his privates!!! I'm not sure it was entirely necessary, but at least I can now say I'm one of a very small number of people to have seen Ian McKellen's biggest part ...

Bas and I went to her brother's house after the play, to give Christmas presents to his two boys. We spent a nice few hours there, then returned to our flat and had a quiet night in. This morning we walked through St James' Park and Green Park, up to the Apple Store on Regent St, so that Bas could hand in her Mac notebook for repair (she converted to Apple a few years ago and swears by it; I keep meaning to follow her lead, but I'm so used to PCs, I just can't tear myself away from them, even though I've never owned one that hasn't frustrated me in one way or another ...). We had lunch in Brown's off of Bond Street, then did some shopping in Iceland, stacking up on drinks for a New Years Eve party which we're throwing -- we have a great view of the London Eye from our flat, so we've invited some friends and family around to watch the fireworks at midnight. We went for a swim and sauna to unwind, then watched the BBC adaptation of Shadow in the North. I thought it was pretty good, about on a par with the version they did of the first Sally Lockhart book last year (the books were written by Philip Pullman, and are excellent, especially the third, which I hope they'll film for next Christmas). The books don't lend themselves especially to film, but a good part of their quality shines through. After that we saw a programme about J K Rowling, which was quite interesting. And now we're off to bed for our last night of sleep of 2007. I'm pretty sure I won't be posting on New Years Eve, so I'll wish you all a Happy New Year now, and I'll be back here with you all early in 2008. Peace, people!!!

Howdy all -- I'm back! It's been a busy few days. I finished up my edit of Hell's Horizon on Christmas Eve, as I indicated with my little impromptu poem that night (I hadn't meant to write a poem -- it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time!). I'm very pleased with the book. I didn't do anything to it structurally, but trimmed it down by 24,000 words -- so hopefully it real read much more tightly now.

Went to my Grandparents for Christmas Day dinner, as I do every year when I'm in Ireland. My parents were there, Bas and her parents, and one of my aunts and her hubby and daughter. We had a fine meal, ate loads, then unwrapped presents afterwards. I got some nice little gifts. I never get big gifts because ... well, I don't really need anything big! If there's something I want badly, I nearly always buy it for myself, as I'm too impatient to wait! But fun little gifts are nice and welcome, and this year I got a CD, a book, a pint glass with the Spurs crest, socks, etc. Nothing overly exciting, but then I don't think too many adults get exciting Christmas presents -- it's a time for the young, so enjoy it while you can!!!!

I went to the Limerick horse races on St Stephen's Day with Bas and her Mum. It's good fun, and a couple of my horses came in -- one of them was a 25-1 long shot, and I had a tenner on it, so I won over €300 in total -- NICE!!!!! I came away with the long, satisfied chuckle of lucky gamblers the world over -- there's nothing so sweet as quickly won cash!!!! Visited some relatives and had a fairly early night -- this was one of our quetest Christmases ever, with not even a single visit to our local pubs!!

On the 27th Bas and I drove to Galway to see one of my favourite bands, The Hitchers. They were a Limerick band who I went to see a lot in the mid- and late-90s. They released two albums, a few singles, and built up a loyal but small fan base. Alas, they never got the lucky break they deserved, and broke up several years ago. But they reunite every Christmas for a one-off gig -- and I've somehow managed to miss every one!!! Each time they play, I'm away! This year was no different -- they were playing in Limerick on the 28th, but I'd already booked to travel to London that day! Fortunately they also did a gig in Galway this year, the night before, so I was determined not to miss it!!! We drove up, checked into our hotel, did some shopping, had a scrumptious fish-n-chips dinner, then watched Limerick's finest rock through their best tunes as if it was ten years ago and the world was still theirs for the taking. It was fine stuff, expertly delivered -- hard to believe they'd only had one day's practise for it!! Check out their MySpace page here if you're unfamiliar with them: THE HITCHERS

There was a really good support band on the bill, also from Limerick, called We Should Be Dead. Fronted by a couple of punkish ladies, they made a big impression and I'll definitely be checking them out live again. Their MySpace page is also worth having a look at, though the songs on it don't quite capture the energy of their live set (with the exception of the rather rudely named one!!): WE SHOULD BE DEAD

Today we flew over to London. Had a few hours in the flat, catching up with emails and going through the post. Then we walked to the National to see their adaptation of War Horse by Michael Morpurgo. The lifesize puppets of the hourses were amazing, incredible to watch, and it was certainly worth seeing for them alone. The story however was a bit flat and far-fetched. The National like to put on a big, emotional family show at Christmas, but while Coram Boy last year finely trod the line between sentimental and mawkish, this one tried a little too hard to tug on people's heart-strings. It was by no means bad, but take the puppets out of it and it would all be a bit risible and forgettable.

Twas the night before Christmas, and deep in the house,
Shan was at work -- boy, what a grouse!
Why isn't he guessing what Santa will send?
Why waste his time on a mere edit's end?
Surely he has more fun things to do
Than sit in his office and make City stew!
Doesn't he know the hard work can wait?
He should relax before it's too late,
Before he goes toes-up at his PC,
Moaning, "At last, oh my lord, at the end I can see
That there's much more to life than telling a tale,
I should have stopped writing and let myself sail
Along with the others, carefree and gay.
(But not, let me add, gay in that way!)"
But the truth of the matter, although it is strange,
Is Shan isn't a loner or grimly deranged.
He just gets sucked into the stories he tells,
And when in that world, all with him's well.
So though some might mock him on this bright eve,
He follows his heart because he believes
You can only be happy if you are true,
To all that is pure -- to all that is you.
Hell's Horizon was waiting, keen to be told,
So Shan pushed ahead till the evening was old
And wrapped up his edit just after eight,
No present this Christmas could be quite as great!
I got what I wanted for Christmas, and so
I'll go to bed happy, singing "Ho-ho-ho-ho!!!"

Night night, Shansters. Merry Christmas!!!!

Darren.