Feeling punchy

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts, or so they say. But what do "they" know? I've never had a gift from a Greek in my life, and although Santa and Father Christmas look a bit like a Greek Orthodox priest (big beard, voluminous clothes), I don't actually believe in them. I mean, it's frankly preposterous that a cabal of Greek Christians are flying round the world delivering presents from an enchanted sleigh.

There are no pieces of advice about what to do with Mexicans bearing gifts. There's not even anything in Debrett's.

But instinct told me to be happy and grateful that my friend Jorge had been all the way to London and brought me back two big jars of Marmite. Hurray for its succulent brown goodness! I was quite out of the yeasty stuff and life was taking a turn for the worse, but now I'm going to be rich in vitamin B12 once more and capable of facing the day.

I'm going to need all the marmite I can get tomorrow; I spent this evening punching things and being kicked around, and finished off by having my head squashed into the floor in the name of self-improvement. But I did choose to do martial arts on a wednesday, and I'm sure bellowing and hitting things has done something for my psychic well-being.

If not, there's a bunch of Korean cds for me to listen to, but we'll make a judgment on that tomorrow.