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Had a lovely Christmas thank you very much.

All the elements for it to make me depressed were there, lurking in the background for me to give in: flatmate away to see his family, most friends with their families too, jobless, boyfriendless and foodless (eight years abroad had made me forget that in the UK all shops close between 4 and 6pm on Christmas eve). Only one present under the tree (from my Secret Santa), only one present already opened during my trip to Italy two weeks ago (my family once more "did not have time" to get me anything and once again said "you get what you need and we'll reimburse you" – but this year I lovingly gave them my presents and I smiled my way through a "It does not really matter, I know this is not important to you, it's OK").

I did not give in. I counted my blessings instead. I am in good health, still relatively young and, I am told, not a horror to look at. I live in the best city in the whole wide world (for me at least). I get enough temporary contract jobs to get by. I am learning to adjust to being single without feeling panic and fear. I have a handful of very good friends in Italy, Iceland, the USA and France, and over the last seven months here I have met many people I am becoming friends with. My flatmate is my best friend here, and my chaperon and accomplice during our weekend escapades through London gay life.

I spent the evening over at Marcus for Christmas dinner with him, his flatmates, David and friends; the meal, the company, the after-dinner games made it one of the best Christmases of the past few years. I know Marcus put in a lot of work for this (he collapsed on his bed before midnight), and I want to thank him for inviting me over. You really made it happen for me this year – yours was the best present ever.