Now is the least boring time imaginable

Yes, it's half four in the morning. I'm on a large cream sofa in my Aunt's house thinking of new lists, or doing whatever it is that my brain substitutes for rational thought.

Things I love

Cream, the band
Cream, the food
Cream, the colour

I lied about the third one. It's overrated.

I have been blessed enough to have a relatively peaceful holiday season, been involved mostly in visiting family, ignoring my large pile of work and listening to Ambulance Ltd (a dear friend's attempt to bring me into this century, sadly for everyone in earshot I still have one foot in the Floyd) which has been really great. Since I came crashing back into my mother's house in London on 16th of December I have yet to argue with my family, which is possibly some kind of a record. And a sign that my siblings and I are growing up. I rounded up my nearest and dearest - save a few who couldn't make it - and went ice skating at the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew.
They had set up an ice rink there, though.
The evening went without too much of a hitch, despite the efforts of the District Line which made us an hour late. But a man who looked too young to be the manager but held an air of authority nonetheless told us it would be fine to skate during the next time slot. So there we were, happily falling over and almost falling over and I was snapping it all and making my trademark series of nearly-losing-my-balance squawks when an "Ice Marshall" - that's skating jargon for wanker in a hoodie - told us to put the camera away. And if we wanted photographs, there was a professional photographer on-site so we could buy them after the session if we so desired.
This literally took the piss. As if being ripped off to the tune of £11 for the skating wasn't enough. We now had to buy our own memories.
I was glad when he fell over. And felt a little bad for the girl he smacked in the back of the head with a flailing arm and took down with him.

An intermittent list:

Quotes from my 7-year-old cousin

"I can see your knickers. They're green." - On my low-ride jeans
"Don't you have anything that girls like?" - On my music collection
"You've got a hole in your chin." - On my labret piercing
"I can play join the dots with your freckles. It makes a monkey. There's the face, look." - On my left arm
"I don't remember your name all the time, but I do like you...most of the time." - I've seen her every Christmas, Easter and summer since she was born
"You've still got a hole in your chin." - On my labret piercing still being there when she saw me the next day
"It's a bit noisy." - On Led Zeppelin
"I licked a snail!"
(What did it taste like?)
"A worm." - On insects

I know what you're thinking. And yes, that list was just an excuse to use the word intermittent.

The fast-approaching New Year (don't think the phrase entirely warrants capitals, but it feels important so I've put them in anyway.) has made me reflect on everything 2007 has brought. I've seen more bands than I can count, which is great, and made myself (with some help from others, I'll admit) happier than I've ever been in my life. Which is a good place to start a new one, I think. In respect to resolutions, one of mine is to make fewer lists. I don't want it to develop into some kind of compulsion to constantly order or categorise things. So by making a list of New Years' Resolutions, I'd actually be screwing up.
You see my dilemma here.
I'm actually spending New Year in Brighton, my home away from my homes away from home. That makes more sense than you might think. I've been trying and failing to work out where home is, and what it means. Is it in London, where I was born and raised, where my parents live? Is it in Hull, in the first house that has ever really been mine, where I live with some of my closest friends, study a subject I love and pursue the career I want to follow for the rest of my life? Is it in Blackpool, where 30-odd members (read also 30 odd members) of my extended family live, all of whom are loving, welcoming and warm? Or is it in Brighton? I've only really been there once, but when I did, I found his arms.
And they do say home is where the heart is.