I love November nights. It’s sad that so many of my friends have vanished, and especially sad that my girlfriend isn’t here with me, because I love to be out at six, seven, ten, midnight when it’s so dark outside, and there’s a real chill in the air, but somehow everything is still peaceful. The kind of atmosphere that you only have to smell to feel happy to be alive. I like it when I get on the train and it’s lightish out, and I watch the sky disappearing so that when I step off, it’s evening time, night time, and I can walk home in the bizarre daydark. But I wish that there was someone there with me, because what I really love about doing things that I love is sharing them with people that I love.

Words are truly amazing people. They are the sort of friends who constantly introduce you to new friends, and it’s very rare indeed that you’ll find a bad word. Some of them are a little eager (such as the word “little”) and get tiresome after a while, but others - such as “deliciously” - are constant companions, always knowing precisely when is the right time to turn up and offer their services. When you know the right words, you can really go places.

I love film. I love the fact that with a cut or a frame or a light or a sound or a fade or an expression or a single word, I can say so much to you, and you probably won’t even realise it. It makes me feel very smug indeed. I love even more the knowledge that some of you will realise it, and go and do the same. I love Lester Burnham simply saying, “I’m great.” I love Nameless the hero’s revelation that a warrior’s ultimate act is to lay down his sword. I love Amelie’s tears as she realises that her fantasies are exactly that. I love the cut to black as Leonard Shelby asks himself, “Now. Where was I?”

Katie is coming to England tomorrow. She’ll be here for a week. Seven days and seven November nights.

I love a good resolution.

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