Not for the first time, I was told I live in the wrong era. To be fair, they're probably right. 

I should have lived during the 1930s surrounded by opulence and going to swanky parties every weekend. Maybe that's why I love theatre and writing, I can whisk myself away to all manner of places.

I find music can do that too, take you away from the here and now, to some other place. We've had a veritable smorgasbord of musical adventures this past month, with the incredible Liane Carroll performing under the Jazz Jurassica umbrella. 

Then there was a superb classical concert with the Seaton Music Society, and of course who could forget the utterly fabulous Magnificent Bublé. Facebook was alive with positive vibes after that one, not unlike Angela who was showing everyone how to lose your inhibitions to the music that night.

I'm going to be heading into a period of parental sorrow in 2023. It will be the last year of having a teenager in the house, although I cannot deny I hope, in the same way he morphed from an adorable child into an incoherent uncooperative youth, he may morph into a responsible adult who works out how to lift the lid of the laundry basket rather than chucking everything on the floor next to it.

We've been short of a theatre cleaner this month, they're a bit like hen's teeth. But spending much of my time clearing up after my errant son at home, it's a bit of a busman's holiday for me, I just roll up my sleeves and pull on the Marigolds.

Did you see those ugly sisters and Prince Charming parading around town? I've heard that in the true spirit of panto, they were getting up to all manner of mischief in the Tesco fruit & veg aisle.

What about that cold snap? I ended up bringing my hot-water-bottle in to keep my hands warm. I rummaged in the boot of my car and found a few bits of clothing that have been there awaiting delivery to the charity shops, and ended up wrapping them round me to keep my extremities warm. 

We had our volunteers' Christmas get-together when everyone brought a plate of something delicious to share. We not only have a fantastic team of people who help keep things going here at the Gateway, but we have an incredible team of chefs I can tell you. There was even a bit of dancing in a circle to the Christmas songs that Paul and Rebecca found amongst their CD collection. 

We had our Christmas staff 'do'. Remember those days? Wearing your little black number, lots of snogging with people you've secretly fancied, and a sore head the following morning. This time round, it was woolly jumpers, hats, scarves and coats, no snogging and no sore head.

Of course, had I lived lavishly during the 1930s, I'm not sure I'd have survived the winter draped in liquid satins, not unless there was a battery powered heated blanket to wrap around me.

Happy New Year to you all!