I won't be going to any New Year's Eve parties because I think they're naff. No one over the age of 15 should bother going to parties.

What sort of sap doesn't know by now that picture-perfect beauty is all done with smoke and mirrors anyway?

I almost choke on my popcorn when I hear film stars, who walk on red carpets as much as the rest of us do on zebra crossings, criticising youngsters who crave fame.

It must be said that Brighton, unlike London, makes driving seem very appealing. Instead of glowering faces and angry horns on all sides, we have the coast road in front of us and the Sussex Downs just 10 minutes behind us.

One Christmas build-up tradition, however, has totally bypassed me - that of going up to town and doing a show.

Having 'best friends' is - at least for me - as outdated and small-minded a concept as the idea of 'Sunday best clothes.'

Families, generally, suck. And I say that as someone who, like my husband, had parents who proved the proverbial exception to the rule.