Merry Christmas, everyone!

Oh, I know there's still nearly two months to go to December 25, but let's not be pedantic about this. The festive season now covers more than a sixth of the year, at least according to the local authority round my way, who began putting up the Christmas lights in the streets last week.

At first, I admit, I was rather irritated by this. I do appreciate that traders everywhere want all of us to get in the festive mood as early as possible, particularly as regards reckless spending on non-essential items, but having Christmas start before Halloween seemed a bit excessive.

Now, however, I have undergone a Scrooge-like conversion. I woke up this morning to see thick snow pouring past my window. It was soon followed by torrential rain, so I know that when I go out later the streets are going to be ankle-deep in semi-frozen slush.
This has brought memories of childhood Christmases flooding back. The presents! The tree! The pudding! The hacking coughs! The 'flu remedies!

Now, as I shiver and listen to the wind rattling the window and rain pouring down the gutters, I truly feel in the right frame of mind for the festivities.

Perhaps we could start Christmas in September next year?

I have often thought that running an Internet page was, psychologically at least, rather like maintaining a garden. A webpage, like a garden, is both a retreat from reality and a means of getting out into the world. It can be run for profit, but usually it's just for fun. You tend your little patch of space with loving care, take great pride in its appearance, and take delight in watching it growing.

And so I was wasn't entirely surprised when I heard about the advent of gardening on the Internet.

A new website, My Veggie Patch, offers the chance to grow your own vegetables without ever having to go outdoors or get your hands dirty. You hire a patch of land from the company that runs the website, and tell them what kind of vegetables you'd like to grow and in what quantity. They then plant the specified vegetables at their farm in Suffolk, England, where cameras enable you to watch the progress of your crop. Finally, when the vegetables are harvested, they are delivered to your door.

Just one snag... it's all a bit on the pricey side. The service can cost up to £995 ($1450). But that hasn't deterred the first five virtual gardeners from signing up to the service.

Critics of the scheme have suggested that there's something sinister about it all; that because of the Internet, mankind is becoming increasingly distant from actual, physical reality.

I can't imagine what they mean. They'll be saying this isn't a real newspaper next...

Thanks Ormy :-) Ed

Alan McGee is used to moving in high society. Until last year, he was the head of Creation Records, an independent record label which was the British outlet for Oasis, among many other acts. As the label's success grew and grew, he found himself being invited to Downing Street to meet Prime Minister Tony Blair, who held up Creation as a shining example of the kind of enterprising spirit he hoped his Government would encourage.

Despite all that, McGee decided to close down Creation last year. But he has now launched a new label, Poptones. And now, he's found himself with an even more rarefied connection.

Poptones is a public limited company, or plc. That means that anyone can buy shares in the company. And it has emerged that one of those who has done so is Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, who has obtained a three per cent share for £50,000.

Clearly dumbfounded by the news, McGee has issued a statement in which he explains:
'Anyone can buy shares in Poptones, even the Queen. Although I am not a monarchist, I can applaud her sound financial sense. It's a shock that she is a shareholder, but that is the nature of plcs. You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your shareholders.'

It's clearly an awkward dilemma for McGee, and I have a suggestion for him.

Poptones is named after a song by Public Image Ltd, the band formed by Johnny Rotten after the Sex Pistols broke up. As Johnny seems to be at a bit of a loose end right now, perhaps McGee could sign him to Poptones and get him to re-record the Pistols' greatest hit... 'God Save The Queen'?

Finally, I was amused to see that researchers at Nottingham Trent University have claimed that many Britons are physically addicted to curries.

Professor Stephen Gray, a senior researcher at the university, has said that the mere thought of a curry causes rapidly rising blood pressure in many lovers of Indian food. Such reactions, he claims, prove that the ingredients in curries are addictive.

What nonsense.

I myself love a delicious, tangy, mouthwatering Madras or a creamy Korma, especially with fluffy rice, crispy poppadums, crunchy bhajis and... is it just me or is it hot in here?

Anyway, it's ridiculous to say you can get addicted to the stuff. Sure, curries are exciting and scrumptious and almost unbearably gorgeous, but to suggest...

Sorry, I'm going to have to leave it there. My local takeaway closes in 10 minutes.

Ormondroyd

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