Gosh, what a happy little site this has been recently. I've been talking as if the glass is not only half-empty, but that the liquid within is poisonous and the lip of the glass is jagged and sharp. We apologise for the temporary loss of optimism, and would like to reassure you that Happy Bouncy Gem FM is back.

Christmas was OK.

On Christmas Eve I didn't even get dressed. Just mooched around the house with Euan. He broke a crayon, so I said, "Oh dear, is it broken?" to which he replied, "Don't worry, s'all right." In my voice.

I know he's going to pick up on the things I constantly say to him, it's just surprising when he bounces them back at me!

He was awake at 7am on Christmas Day, but luckily he's not old enough to get hyper-excited about presents. Managed to get a nice long soak in the bath before going downstairs for breakfast. Mum & Dan came round, so Euan opened his presents from them while I made cuppas. They left after about an hour to start cooking lunch, and Grandma turned up a bit later. More presents for Euan - you'd think he would get overwhelmed, but no - he has an endless capacity for acquiring new toys. After Grandma left (following an anxious phone call from Dan asking where she was because he was starving and could I please hurry her up), I cooked lunch for Euan and I.

No sprouts!

Just a little cassoulet (with duck), a few roast parsnips, and some sausages wrapped in bacon. So not very traditional, but with a nod towards my favourite bits of a Christmas dinner. It was a very cosy little meal.

Karl and his Dad came to pick Euan up at about 5pm, so after that I was able to start clearing up some of the debris from the day. I got a bit carried away in fact - as well as tidying presents and washing up, the kitchen got cleaned from top to bottom, as did the bathroom, everywhere was hoovered, windows were cleaned and old cobwebs swept away. Sat down for a well-earned drink with a book at about 9pm. Might seem like a strange Christmas Day, but if I'm in a cleaning mood it's best not to fight it, as it's such a rare occurrence.

Then Steve came round to help me drink some of the beer in my fridge. He'd spent the day with his family - cooking dinner for ten, I think. I could just about cope with doing a meal for two, one of whom is a toddler who doesn't notice if you burn things.

Turned into quite a late night.

I wasn't allowed to be unsociable and hibernate through Boxing Day though, so Mum & Dan turned up with Euan sometime after 1pm, which felt like an early morning to me. We went to Llangollen for the Mince Pie Express, which Euan loved. Steam trains are so much more fun than the ones that just growl and whirr. You don't get the proper "choo-choo" noise any other way.

Had tea and stayed at Mum's, because it was just simpler. Had a "lively debate" which was constantly teetering on the brink of "murderous brawl" over the nature of Christmas. I said it was harmful overall, although I accepted the benefits of having a midwinter festival to look forward to. Grandma kept telling me how much better this country was since the war, and she did very well not to call me an ungrateful brat. Mum pointed out that the environmentally destructive capitalist consumerism I was scathingly dismissing was what I had indulged in when I bought a new phone four days earlier. I explained that I was well aware of my own hypocrisy, which was part of the reason I was so resentful of Christmas - it reminds me I'm too weak to put actions to my thoughts. Must do better next year. Not just "no cards" but also "no presents", "no ridiculously indulgent food", and as Mum pointed out "no works Christmas parties". I'll see how well I do.

Tuesday - went home to feed the menagerie, fought our way through the mad shoppers for a couple of essentials, then prepared a nice lunch. Grandma was running very late again, so after a couple of phone calls we started eating without her... might seem mean, but it was already 4pm, and Mum & I were going round to her friend's for an evening meal! Mum's friend Martine lives in Handbridge, but is originally from France. Her mother and her friend had come to stay for Christmas and don't speak English, so I think I was partly invited as an extra French-speaker. I didn't mind. It was a lovely evening. The meal was French-style too: smoked salmon first, with a slice of lemon to squeeze over it. Then the foie gras. I know it's evil. I know that shovelling food into an animal until it can't walk is incredibly cruel. It completely goes against my principles and values. But have you ever tasted foie gras? I'm too weak. Then came the pork, with a mushroomy sauce, baked apples, and ratatouille. Then the salad. Then the cheese. Then apple strudel and custard. About six courses, really, absolutely yummy. Turned into quite a late night though, so I was happy to get home and sleep.

Back in work today, but the office is nice and quiet. Any phone calls I take are easily dealt with - the two most important computer systems are down this week as they're doing some major work on them. "I can give you general advice but I can't look at specific details until Tuesday. You'll phone back? Great."

It's a bit dull though. No Nicola, no Andrea, no Steve and no Al to talk to. No work to do. Only one more day of this, then I'm off on Friday - shopping in Liverpool with Nicola.

What a week.

Nothing particularly dramatic happened, just full of turmoil. For me, anyway. And it's my website, so I'll cry if I want to, right?

Monday wasn't too bad in work.

Had plenty of hugs from Euan on Monday night anyway, so any emotional upset was cuddled away.

Tuesday I had the day booked off work, went shopping in Liverpool. Everyone said I was mad, and having fought my way through Wrexham on Monday (to buy cakes for Tuesday's buffet, when I wouldn't be there...) I thought they might be right. But if you're going to get annoyed at all the people getting in the way, you might as well be sure there are plenty of shops to go into so you can find what you want.

It wasn't too busy. And I had all day, so I stopped for a cuppa or two, and read my book. Managed to get a few more presents.

Wednesday wasn't so good. Had a bad day in work, but managed to stay busy because Rose had taken a half day.

Thursday was horrible. Got through it by complaining to Andrea and Nicola. Each unpleasant minute still crawled by. Felt stupid for crying in the toilets, and then wondered why I didn't just let people know how bad I was feeling so I could go home. I couldn't face coming home on my own though - no Euan to hug. So I helped Mum with her last-minute shopping (that was chaos), then we had a takeaway, then I stayed at hers. I just knew I'd feel even worse if I was cooped up at home on my own. It's very rare that I'll take refuge at Mum's.

Couldn't sleep last night. Just didn't want to go to bed. Too upset. Eventually got into bed at 3.30ish, I think. Still couldn't get to sleep.

Work wasn't too bad today. Last day before Christmas break, so people were doing quizzes and listening to music. My vision went all patchy in my left eye, and I couldn't feel my left hand, which was disconcerting. I hadn't slept much though, so I assume it was just tiredness. Had a splitting headache that took a while to shift, even after paracetamol. Not fun. Felt distinctly like panic attacks were coming back too. That tingly feeling on my lips and the back of my neck, and a sudden shortness of breath, and a desperation to get out, escape. Thought I'd got over all that, haven't had one for months!

Al showed me Linux on his laptop, which I'd asked about once or twice. And then we worked our way through a couple of quizzes too. So it wasn't all bad all day.

Why is it that just when one thing starts to go right, something else goes wrong? Finally (after five years) I'm enjoying my job, and my pay's even jumping up by £3k in June... Bought a new phone on Thursday, bargain price, and it's already waiting for collection just up the road. So I should be happy. And Dad's bought a van and I've agreed to be the "owner" so they can drive it without getting extra insurance. (Their 3rd-party covers them.) It also means I've got a little van to paint funny colours when I go down there. Signed the DVLA thing today. Nicola's booked us Benicassim for July, which I can't wait for. I'm just being a miserable cow.

This evening wasn't so bad, as Euan's been looking after me.
"I washa pots mummy?"
"Thank you Euan, it's OK, Mummy will do it later."
"Oh no, look Mummy, mess!"
"Yes, I know honey, Mummy just wants to sit down for a while, we'll tidy up later."
"Cuggle?"
"Yes please."
I'll blitz the house now he's asleep. Or maybe tomorrow. I'll put music on and we'll make it into a game. Except I left my favourite CD at Mum's so Dan has kindly ripped a few tracks and emailed them to me.

It's not as if I actually did anything wrong last Friday.

If I'd known that a certain person actually had any kind of feelings for me, then I wouldn't have gone home with a different person. But I've been trying to guess what's going on for over a year now, and by ignoring me all evening, and very obviously flirting with someone else, he wasn't exactly giving me the right kind of signals. I was humiliated. And rejected, and ignored, and used, and upset, and people kept asking me unpleasant questions that I didn't know how to answer. Full of false concern for my feelings whilst digging for gossip.

So is it really surprising I didn't want to be a convenient shag for him at the end of the night, and also didn't want to end up at home on my own wondering if he took her home instead?

I was miserable and lonely, and didn't want to be alone as well.

And now it looks like I'll be all three, for the forseeable future.

Ooh, an extra babbling! How exciting. Usually don't get round to doing more than one a week lately.

However, I've had comments that indicate that the tone of my last babble was maybe a bit acidic, perhaps a bit spiky, and possibly even downright grumpy.

OK, so it was a Saturday, I wasn't hung over (because of the abstention from large quantities of alcohol, remember?), but I was rather tired. And I was feeling a bit down about the inevitable gossip I'll have to face on Monday. I'm still not feeling particularly enthusiastic about it to be honest, but at least today I managed to wash my hair and get dressed. I didn't quite manage that yesterday; I just plodded around feeling rotten about the state of the house, and not being motivated enough to do anything about it.

However, this shouldn't inevitably lead concerned third parties to ask, "Are you trying to make enemies?", so I re-read the babble.

To clarify: the meal was lovely, I did actually enjoy myself, I was grumpy and unsociable for not dancing, and justified this with snobby comments, and town was the same as ever, the only difference being my unusual sobriety.

So today, Mum had asked if I wanted to go to Carol's christmassy gathering at her house. I wondered about whether to go - I was worried about dragging the atmosphere down with my self-pitying attitude. Mum sort of solved it by phoning at ten o'clock this morning, asking if I'd be ready by quarter to 11. She'd just woken me up, so my response was a muzzy, "Yes, no problem, see you soon." So I got up and got ready.

And I enjoyed it when I got there. Carol had put on a lovely spread, and we sipped our drinks and chatted happily away, and I caught up with a lot of people I haven't seen for ages.

I also managed to drop a bagel on my lap, but luckily the bacon stopped most of the cream cheese from going onto my jeans, so it was only the humiliation to worry about. But I'm used to embarrassing myself with clumsiness, so that's OK.

Back home with Euan, we tackled a bit of housework together, danced around the living room, and had a bath. So I've had lots of hugs, and I'm not being so moody any more. Better?

Busy, busy. Still no more presents bought.

Been feeling a bit under the weather recently, not sure why. Work was OK though. Had Euan an extra night this week, because Willowbank were having their Christmas concert on Wednesday, and Euan was Joseph. I only found out through Karl last week, and they told me on Monday that I had to make the costume. Cheers for that. So in the absence of anything towelly to cut up at home, it would mean sacrificing Tuesday lunchtime to a dash to the shops, and Tuesday evening to make it. He's not even three yet. I'm sure I shouldn't have to deal with costumes and parents' evenings until he's at school.

So he wore a dressing gown. It's not like it matters. They all trailed onto the "stage" and looked nervous. Euan put on his grumpiest expression. Then he very deliberately licked his shoe.

He also refused to sing any of the songs.

I was so proud.

Most of the parents took about fifty photos. I didn't take any. It was a bit too weird. Karl and his Mum sat right at the front, holding video cameras, but Karl later told me he hadn't realised it wasn't recording until about halfway through. He missed the shoe-licking moment! D'oh!

Jason came round on Tuesday night, so Euan kindly beat him up a bit. He does that. I think the positive way to look at his violent streak is to say that he's a very outgoing child. Jase went to collect the takeaway whilst Euan ate a few of his spaghetti hoops on toast. He also had some prawn crackers and lemon chicken. Had a very enjoyable evening, and Euan even went to sleep eventually, which meant the conversation flowed a bit more easily, without tangents about Thomas the Tank.

Went shopping with Mum on Thursday night. Did the usual "Oh, I'll just share your trolley, I only need bread and eggs", and ended up buying half the shop.

Then yesterday was the Social Club Christmas meal.

It started with the raffle, where everyone gets a prize, usually booze, then everyone swaps their prizes anyway. Except for Sue, of course, because she won a digital camera.

Then we headed off to Llyndir Hall.

Food was nice - goat's cheese on a bed of chargrilled vegetables for starters, then pheasant (complete with a piece of shot, hooray) and finishing off with a prune pudding. Thoroughly enjoyed it, but some people said theirs wasn't very impressive. I must have made lucky choices.

The staff were delightfully ungracious, either that or they were doing impressions of zombies. It was the way they lurched slowly around, looking like they'd been dead a few days, dropping your food somewhere in the vicinity of your place setting and communicating with grunts. Charm personified.

Then it was time for the disco. This means almost closing the curtains, but leaving a chink of daylight showing through to remind you that artificially darkening the room doesn't make it any more of a party. The music started with an Abba medley. People danced - some because they were drunk, some because there was little else to do, some because of the complex interpersonal relationships that I don't even begin to understand. Some of them might even have been dancing because they enjoy dancing. But since it's all just basically part of the mating ritual, I declined.

Anyway, I'd just had a big meal, was sober, and didn't really want to dance at 3pm in the mildly shabby function room of Llyndir Hall. I promised them I would dance for hours once we got to town.

It would have been nice if Al was there to talk to, but I had no choice but to be normal and sociable.

On the coach into town, we got a commentary over the microphone. It wasn't very funny. It makes me cringe just thinking about it.

Town was packed. Revenue people everywhere, because the Social Club weren't the only ones out. I stood on the steps in Barracuda and held my camera up in the air a few times, deciding to pick out faces later.

Kirsty came too, and got upset because several people asked her if she was seeing James. Like the two-faced cow that I am, I sympathised, comforted, and wiped the make-up streaks away when she cried. Two-faced, because I hold rather strong opinions about what Kirsty and James allegedly get up to, but I didn't say this. Instead I said, "It's perfectly possible just to be good mates with someone, and if they're all too cynical to believe it, fuck 'em. They'll find something else to talk about by next week anyway." (Yes, I swear more when I'm tipsy. Or nervous. The f-word probably won't appear with such frequency in future babblings.)

Of course, I didn't realise at the time, but the thing that they'll all be talking about next week is most probably me.

Because... here's the background. I danced to a few songs, talked to a few people, and very quickly got bored. Then the herd was supposed to be moving on to Chicago Rock, so out into the cold it was - and a quick about-turn on seeing the queue. Decided not to pay to get into Liquid/Envy either. See? I only end up there when I'm so drunk rational thought disappears! I don't even know what the interior looks like, because by the time I go there my memory has given up trying to record events.

Went instead to Honky Tonks with Dylan and Sam, but had really had enough of town by this point. Went to get a taxi and was handed a ticket and told there would be an hour's wait, so went for another drink across the road in Brady's (aka The Old Swan).

Here's where next week's potential rumour comes in: on returning to the taxi office, we saw Karen and Vicky (I'm sure there was a third person but can't remember who), and offered to share the taxi with Vicky. Since she got out first, leaving two of us in the taxi, this is more than grounds for a bit of gossip about "who Gemma went home with".

There's no such thing as benefit of the doubt where office politics are concerned.

I'll find out if I've been branded a hussy on Monday. Karen could tell my team, Vicky could tell everyone downstairs - or they could find something more constructive to do with their time. We'll see.

Quite a week - from bailiff to cowgirl, apparently. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...

Monday I got to go around with Keith for the day, persuading people that yes, they really did want to pay their taxes. Preferably now. No? Well, they didn't really want to keep this nice car on the drive, or those nice expensive-looking electrical items in the front room, did they?

It was tougher than I expected. Although I'm getting used to dealing with belligerent taxpayers on the phone, usually by letting my voice get more and more dispassionate and fact-stating as theirs gets more agitated, I wasn't prepared for seeing people face-to-face. Luckily for my headache a lot of them were out, but a query to the neighbours about whether Mr X lives there, followed by a letter through the door saying "by hand" still tends to get a good response. No-one can accuse me of going for a fun day out, because the call area was Deeside, and it was pissing down. It definitely gave me the intended insight into the job, and I was more impressed than ever about how unstressed Keith always seems.

It was also an interesting day out of the office, as I was starting to feel hemmed in. As an example of how fascinating my job can be, one day's entertainment consisted of seeing if I could do my entire job using only the keyboard, and giving the mouse a break. I had no idea the "Alt" key was so versatile. I also chose my password because it had a French swearword in it. So now I can smirk to myself every time I log in. I'm easily amused. I can't tell you what the swearword is, because then you would know one-third of my password, and national security could be compromised!

So. The rest of the week passed without dramatic incident. Late night shopping with Nicola on Thursday, then of course the Receivables Christmas Do on Friday. Or are we Debt Management & Banking now? Or as a compromise, "Recovery"? Whoever we are, we went to the Pant yr Ochain for a very nice meal, then headed into town for further frivolity. There was an impressive amount of cleavage on display.The cowgirl bit comes in when I was in the queue to get a cuppa from the morning trolley, and Mike (my old manager) wandered past saying I looked like a cowgirl. I replied with a deadpan "Thanks." He then backtracked, saying I looked very nice, and he could only wind me up because I looked good, etc etc. I eventually saved him from digging any deeper, but I must admit to enjoying seeing people squirm. I was wearing my suede skirt and boots, and a corset-style top (that cheated with shoulder straps), so I can see where he got the image from.

The meal itself was yummy. I ended up on a table with Al and Rose, so a very civilised repast was had. Then Rose had to leave early, as she was driving down to Cardiff. She never stops running around after people. I think I'm busy sometimes, but if I swapped places with Rose for a day, I'd have a nervous breakdown. Al and I continued to be unsociable and ignore the rest of the group, but as we retired to the bar we convinced each other that it wasn't snobbery, merely discernment. I don't mean to imply that all my colleagues are intolerable bores, far from it, but I will merely say that there are a couple of people I would prefer not to spend any more of my life with than strictly necessary. It's too short to humour imbeciles.

Saw Jon Coakley there too - he's been working behind the bar for a few weeks, as he's just come home. He's got two degrees, which I think is just plain greedy. We swapped numbers and agreed to meet up soon for a "So what have you been up to in the last five years then?" conversation. Mum asked me to please try and get engaged to him as quickly as possible, because she always liked him. At least she says what she means, even if we don't always agree on what my priorities should be.

In town, Al and I continued to discover coincidences that indicated we were separated at birth (ignoring the minor point of an age difference), but started to mingle with the others a bit more. Mum was enjoying herself - I've never seen her in town before, and it was a startling image, but not an unpleasant one. Then, having successfully managed to retain sobriety from midday until about 8pm, the accumulated effect hit me and I got rather drunk. Got home before midnight - not my home, but within walking distance, which counts as home when you're looking for somewhere comfy to pass out (Mum, I know you read this, and I know you want to know where I ended up Friday night, so does "walking distance from home" narrow it down sufficiently? It gives you a choice of about three people's sofas to envisage me sprawled upon). Had slurred phone conversations with Mum about whether Karl had Euan all weekend or whether he was expecting babysits from Dan on Saturday. By this point I must admit I couldn't care less, and I think my response was along the lines of, "If Karl can't be bothered telling me, you or Dan by this late on a Friday night, quite frankly he can go fuck himself if he turns up at 8am with Euan." Not very helpful, I must admit, but I stand by the sentiment, if not the expletive.

Then on Saturday morning I ended up walking home at 6.30am - with a brazen, shameless and cheery "Morning" to the people I encountered, as if to say, "What? Oh, the clothes? I'm not overdressed: you're underdressed."

Drank lots of water, had a bath, got changed, got picked up by Nicola at 7.30ish, and went to catch the coach from the office to York. Slept most of the way there, waking up occasionally to sip more water. Luckily as Nicola had also been out the night before, she didn't think I was being rude, but joined me in a few hours' drooling slumber.

We prioritised finding a fry-up when we got there, then mooched happily round the winding network of streets that make York a pleasant place to shop. Didn't buy much - so I still only have Euan's prezzies bought - but had a very nice day. Slept on the bus home too. Attracted a few comments about having no stamina, but merely fired back that they hadn't seen us the night before, and would they care to join us the next time?

One day I'll stop attempting to fill up every spare second in my diary and allow myself to catch up on sleep. Until then, as long as I keep managing to struggle through all my commitments, I'll continue to believe I am Supergirl, and can do anything I put my mind to.

I fully intend to sleep all day Saturday after the TDO Social Club meal next Friday though. That's usually a heavy night.

I'm aware that this has already been a lengthy Babble, but for the sake of completeness I feel I must add a short explanation: Wrexham Tax Office, or Inland Revenue, or HM Revenue and Customs (as we are now) regularly changes its various names. When I joined five years ago, the office was split into TSO (Tax Service Office?) who did the bulky processing work, and the smaller TDO (Tax District Office), who handled compliance and complicated fiddly stuff. There have been numerous shuffles of our organisational structure since then, TDO and TSO were scrapped, but the social arrangements stuck. I tried to explain it to Nicola the other day, and realised that even the terms "Wrexham 1" and "Wrexham 2" were obsolete when she joined. I feel like such a dinosaur. Either way, it means a night out with people I know from downstairs. So who cares about the appellation?

John came round on Wednesday evening, which was lovely as I hadn't seen him for ages. Caught up with news, ate fish n chips.

Euan came back Friday night - Mum helped out with picking him up because it was so cold!

Then Ste arrived after several hours' driving, straight from work, through the rain. Luckily Euan had just fallen asleep so at least we had peace and quiet. I was (as usual) quite tired, so I ended up dozing off after a while. Very rude of me.

We had an early morning yesterday, as we were going to Blackpool. Failed miserably to be ready in time for the train, so Ste said he'd drive. Didn't take too long, and we found the pub in time to meet the rest of the group and have our coffee & biscuits.

I had expected an icy wind, maybe rain, possibly snow, but it turned out to be quite mild. Still, as we were trundling up the lift hill on The Big One, Ste turned to me and said, "May I remind you what month it is?" He was clearly under the impression that it was all my fault that we were going on rollercoasters, at the seaside, in December.

We went round a few times, and I gave in when I couldn't feel my fingers any more. Euan had been feeding the ducks, which was far more interesting than any old rollercoaster. Ste and I took it in turns to go on Space Invader 2, and wondered what all the fuss was about with going round with the lights on. It just means that you can see the glow-in-the-dark scenery in all its cardboardy glory.

They switched the lights back off as the general public were allowed into the park.

Went on a couple of Euan-friendly rides (carousel was fun, dodgems were a real hit!), then met up with the group again for a carvery at the Big Blue Hotel. I was very impressed; it was a generous spread. Euan behaved himself very well, until it was time to leave and go ice-skating, at which point he decided that the automatic doors were the best game in the world, and screamed when we tried to tear him away from them. He was very tired by this point, because he screamed for the entire walk to the ice rink and got worked up into a tantrum. After reasoning, distraction, persuasion and threats failed to work, I eventually dragged him inside to show him what we were missing. He quietened down, cuddled me, and fell asleep.

Great, except now I was trapped under a slumbering toddler, so I decided to pass on the last 15 minutes of skating anyway!

Got back late, stuffed faces with pizza, and all fell asleep in a big heap on the sofa. Awoke at various times and stumbled upstairs to bed.

Today has been a nice lazy day. Went down to Marford for a in the Trevor Arms with Dan (the nearly stopped him from joining us). Euan was an angel throughout, and just as we were about to leave the chap at the next table gave me a couple of pounds, saying, "For the little lad. He's lovely, isn't he? Put it in his money box." Bless! I didn't know what to say, other than thank you very much, obviously.

Euan's actual money box has foreign coins in it, because he has a habit of scattering them everywhere, so I'll put the money to one side instead and get something extra for him for Christmas.