Fancy a wee dram o' Englitch?

I have long maintained that Scotch whisky is, like the bagpipes, a weapon of war that's used against the English. How odd, then, that the auld enemy are now producing their own version.

Bah humbug

I'm in the Christmas mood. Not the nostalgic, snowy, tinselly, warm and excited mood that other people seem to find themselves in at this time of year. My Christmas mood is a much darker place. A blue kind of place.

This is the time of year when I just want to hibernate; to disappear and not come back until it's all over. But I can't. It would be selfish. It would hurt other people's feelings. It would worry the people I love.

So I try to enter into the spirit of things. I shop till I drop (and I hate shopping at the best of times); wrap gifts and write cards to family, friends, colleagues, people I never see from one year's end to the next; decorate the tree and hang a Christmas wreath on the front door. And that's all OK - but at the back of my mind is the knowledge that, when Christmas itself arrives, I will not be doing what I want to do. I'll be doing what other people want me to do.

When I was growing up, Christmas was always a family time. As in "family only", no friends allowed. Most years we travelled to my grandparents' home, which was so far from our home that we couldn't have seen our friends anyway. Like most families I guess, forced together and with so much to prepare and do, there were niggles and arguments. Sometimes full-blown rows, often resentful silences.

Then later, as an adult, I moved even further away. With only two days' holiday, I would drive for 12 hours to get "home" for Christmas, spend Christmas Day with my family, then drive for 12 hours back again. It wasn't acceptable to spend Christmas on my own, you see. Even though that really was what I wanted to do. And besides, it was much easier for me to travel, being on my own, than it would have been for everyone else (kids and all) to pack up and come to my house.

I did eventually put my foot down and for three or four years stayed in my own home for Christmas; relaxing, having Christmas dinner with friends and trying to reassure my family via telephone that no, I wasn't lonely I was just fine thank you. Enjoying myself actually.

But I'm not single any more. So this year, it's back to doing what everybody else wants to do. Two Christmas Days - one for him and me, then a repeat performance when his clan visit on Boxing Day. Then the following day we have a five-hour drive to his mum's and the day after that we've got a three-hour drive to take his mum to his brother's, and the day after that we drive home. And I just want to hibernate. And my family will want to know how come we can do all this for his family, but don't want to visit them.

The local church put a leaflet through my door the other day. It said "Is your Christmas in danger of becoming just a weekend of turkey and television?" Believe me, I wish it was.

Singing Soldiers should wear uniform

Singing servicemen The Soldiers have been told they can't wear their uniforms when they sing the national anthem at the Royal Variety Performance. An MoD spokeswoman said: "When they perform they're earning money. Nobody is allowed to use the Queen's uniform for that."

Rubbish. You don't see our military bands playing concerts in civvies - and they are paid to perform. 

The artists who perform at the Royal Variety Performance don't receive a fee, as all the money goes to charity.The Soldiers' CD was recorded to raise money for military charities, including Help for Heroes.It's only right that they should wear their uniforms when they play for the Queen, who is the head of our armed forces.