I was awake all night and into the early hours of this morning recording the American show, and getting more and more frustrated with it. Something wasn't happening for me and the more I fucked up the more annoyed I became. Eventually, it took me about seven hours to record a one hour show, and I still had The Sunday Alternative (in its new radio home) to record and A Christmas Carol to record to release as an audiobook. By the time I'd sorted it out it was light, and I crawled into bed exhausted.

Having so little sleep was worrying, as today was decorations day and I didn't want to ruin it by sleeping in or being grumpy when Mandi woke me up. I got up at midday and had myself two cups of tea to wake me up a bit. I had intended to make us bacon sandwiches, which I did at about three o'clock as a break from our decorating.

I was put in charge of the family Christmas card.

I took lots of photos for some reason, as most of our decorations are the same as last year. We have bought some new bits but not much.

This was the first year that we've got the decorations up without arguing, we got round it by splitting the responsibility; I did the living room and Mandi did the front room. I was allowed my Ritz cracker tree in the kitchen, which I'm pleased with. Every year when I find the envelope with the Ritz decorations in, I remember that I keep meaning to write to Nabisco with the idea to market the Ritz tree. It occurred to me again that I should have set up my Christmas house decorating business.

I took a break from decorating to be mature and hilarious.

Today is day one of a project I am undertaking called 'December Dickens', in which I watch a different version of A Christmas Carol every day of the month, for a book I'm writing for release next Christmas. With this project in mind, I was invited to a production of that very story at The Arts Theatre tonight. What better way to kick off such a month than a night at the theatre? What I didn't realise, is that we were going to see a school play.

The only people who go to school productions are the parents of the cast, we've all sat through a nativity, or even been in one, and know full well that MY child is the best, the star of the show, and that all the other kids are a bit shit. Now imagine that you're sitting through such a show, without the highlight of seeing your own little darling in the spotlight. This was open to the public, who had paid for the privilege.

I shouldn't be too cruel to children, but if you're going to act on the stage, it is the responsibility of the teacher to pick the kids who can actually act. This was a car crash. One of those car crashes where everyone forgets their lines, looks out to their parents, and mumbles the important lines of dialogue.

We went to the pub at the interval.