Not for me the purgatory of fractious family shindigs that turn into Armageddon over the mince pies. I'm just happy on my own, doing my own thing, chilling out but toasty. Of course, there is someone with whom I'd like to spend Christmas. Someone with whom I'd gladly share my blanket and my wine. But if he was here, you could forget about the television. Innes McKenzie is my boss, my unbelievably gorgeous boss, and the one I can thank for the yummy wine. He's just the sort of guy to remember a casual conversation from months ago, and take note of my favorite tipple for future reference. He's like that, thoughtful and inventive. The African Queen is on the box now, another Christmas favorite. I try to imagine Innes on a rackety riverboat covered in grease, like Bogart, but it's a reach. My boss is cool and immaculate and as beautiful as an angel. A very manly angel, naturally, and needless to say, I'm head over heels in love with him. I can't help but wonder about his Christmas though. I picture his apartment, a place as immaculate and elegant as he is, maybe done out in white with monochrome silver decorations.
