Dear Friends,

I think ‘Happy New Year’ is what I’m supposed to say, so consider that done. Whilst I’m on the topic of being generous in my concern for you, I do hope you all had a really lovely Christmas. If however, you had a really lovely Christmas and then leapt out of bed on Boxing Day to go shopping, then big shame on you. Can’t you go one day without buying some tawdry item for yourself? It won’t make you any happier you know, and when the mortgage company comes round to repossess your house because you haven’t paid your bills, then you’ll only have yourself to blame. Besides, if you buy stuff, then the shops win, and no one wants that, do they?

I had a lovely Christmas. I ate a lot of turkey, chocolate and nuts. I think that apart from watching wrinkly actors in ‘To The Manner Born’, Christmas is all about a lot of turkey, chocolate and nuts. I got some presents too, which some misguided folk seem to think is the point of Christmas, but I’m not going to bang on about those. After all, you wouldn’t really be excited by my new book on the history of the South Bank, or a strange little Buddha character that doubles in size when you place him in water.

One very exciting piece of news, at least for me, is that my poetry book ‘Poems From the Seashore’ is now the top-selling poetry tome ever in the bookshop where I waste 20 hours a week. I grant you that the impressive sales patter of my colleagues and pride of place positioning around the store have contributed greatly to this feat; but the fact of the matter is that I’ve sold more copies of my scribble than Wordsworth and Keats put together. And it is this fact that I shall hold close to my bosom and cherish. If it is the only thing I ever achieve, then at least my tombstone will read, “Here, face down and naked lies Phil. He sold more poetry books in a depressing suburban bookshop near Heathrow than any other poet. God rest his soul.”

Something else I’m rather excited about is that my next poetry book is now really coming together, and it won’t be long until it is finished. I had originally hoped to have it in publication for March, but I think I may have been a little over zealous when I came up with that nugget of misinformation. I know this is true because each day of toil in the various coffee shops of grey suburbia makes me realise that there is always a little word to change here, or a new sentence to be sorted out there. It really is a never-ending process, I don’t mind telling you. But the end is in sight, and you, my dear reader, can rest assured that you will be the first to know when all the T’s are dotted, the I’s are crossed and the whole effort goes off to the publishers for them to do the grown up things that they need to do.

Completely unrelated to the above, I think I should mention that I’ve cut down on the amount of meat I’m eating. And I want to make it clear that it’s not a new years resolution, because I started it on the 30th November. I think that apart from the health benefits, it is a good move morally, for I like animals, I really do. The cute ones are…well, cute, and the ugly ones…..well, they’re just sad because they are not beautiful like the peacock. I did make an exception for this years Christmas turkey though. This is for two very good reasons. Firstly, mother had already bought it from Waitrose, and secondly, I’m a hypocrite.

So there it is. Poetry is being written, books are being sold and meat (by and large) is not being eaten. All is good.

Turrrah.