happy new year.

The new year started with 15 sets of fireworks, we had a panoramic view across London from my roof top.

Down the road, Sud at the Lord Cecil was great for want of a better good word. Margarita thought Oliver Hacke was the ultimate tease, and Alex kept wailing for a drop. I don't have that much of an overactive imagination, but I couldn't stop dancing.

Sans Soleil was most apt for the first film of the new year. Ariel Pink for motivation to leave the flat. Over a vegetarian Indian feast I got told that people who make resolutions should die.

This year I'm going to be on time.

Hangover cure n: Maison Bertaux on Greek Street (take your dates there, I'm told). I couldn't choose the profiteroles; my mum makes them in triple digits in the early hours of the morning for NHS nurses. They are better than most things.

Yesterday, I saw the funniest trailer I've seen in a while. Woody Allen should stop making films about relationships.