In which looby gets agreeably stuck in Hexham

Sherry, I have decided, is an unfairly maligned drink. Seriouscrush got me a bottle of the posh stuff, Manzanilla, which was lovely, although I preferred my El Jerez Economico de Spar.

Christmas itself went very well. I enjoyed being with Kirsty and the children. I'm happy to be a father now. I'd never have said that two or three years ago. The other day my daughter Jenny, aged 12, income, £2/week, asked me what I'd like for Christmas. Trying to think of something in her budget, I said a ruler. On Christmas Day, a scratched secondhand 6" ruler from her own pencil box turned up wrapped under the tree.

After Christmas I went to my parents' in Middlesbrough and braced myself for a few days of sobriety and politesse, as no-one drinks, swears, takes the name of Our Lord in vain, or makes jokes about the things worth making jokes about. Although we did nothing but sit around, everyone was chatty and in a good mood. But I couldn't help looking forward to my escape after a couple of days. I wanted to escape the stifling central heating, which my parents have turned up to simulate a summer afternoon in central Africa, but mainly because my Dad's getting more and more difficult.

My brother, philosophy teacher in a secondary school in Australia, was being interestingly enthusiastic about re-reading An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding and thinking about how he could teach free will and determinism to 11-year-olds. My Dad cut in about the trouble in Korea. We stopped our conversation, turned to his topic, and he said that the Russians were behind it all, and "it'll be those Jews with all their money."

Later, and coming downstairs after looking at some photos with my sister's boyfriend, I took a free seat next to him and he immediately said "I don't talk to you." Perhaps he felt aggrieved that I hadn't paid sufficient attention to him, but it's quite difficult to thread a normal conversation through the weave of his blokey humour, his anti-Semitic remarks and his idiosyncratic take on world events. Everyone pretended they hadn't heard it and started talking again. Esther, my sister-"in-law" said that he's often been very rude to her so at least in that respect he doesn't discriminate.

Me and my sister were talking about it in the kitchen when they'd gone to bed. She said that he's getting more paranoid. He's by my Mum's side all the time and thwarts her every attempt to have a minute or two to herself. He tags along with every little escape bid to the Post Office or greengrocer. He's completely dependent and will fall apart if she dies first. Just before I left, my Mum, in front of everyone, said "Do you like coming here, looby?" "Yes, of course I do," I started. "Of course he's not going to say he doesn't like it," said my brother's wife. I felt like an inanimate specimen being talked over.

On the way back I missed one train accidentally and two more deliberately whilst in a lovely pub in Hexham. Being on my own, a still atmosphere, the local ale, people chatting sotto voce.