The winter night is falling fast as the door opens before you to reveal a man, twenty-seven, drying his hands on his apron that reads, "the problem with the world is that everyone's a few drinks behind."  A floppy chef's hat covers his wavy hair, and he breaks into a smile as he sees you.  
    "Welcome!  Come in! The dinner is just getting started!"
    You doff you coat and come in to meet the other guests.  This, you know, is not just another dinner party.  That tall funny-looking guy who greeted you (i.e. the precarious author of this story) has brought you here to dine on stories from the year just gone.  And as the cold night air quickly becomes only a memory, you are handed your first drink.

    Any meal should start off with Champagne.  As the bubbly tingles your tongue, my first story comes to life.  I find myself settling down onto one of the ornately carved pews in New College Chapel.  There are flowers all around, and a festive atmosphere as the family and friends of Doris and Paul gather for their wedding.  Our little row is Doris' cheering squad, with me in my kilt, John, Jason, Joe (who flew over from Boston), and other close friends. Always one to enjoy formalities, but not too much, I spent the service commenting in hushed tones to the girl next to me that there was no mention of a kiss in the programme.  We had a few anthems, then the exchanging of the vows, the ‘I do' from Doris being greeted with a small ‘yay!' from a child on the groom's side. It was lovely, but then Doris and Paul turned around and started walking out!  How could this be?!  Were they really going to leave without sealing the deal with a smacker?  Just as I was getting ready to leap from the pew and demand my money back, they paused in the aisle, and. . . I whooped.  I couldn't help myself.  
      Your glass is empty?  Here, let me refill it for you!  Following last year's final revelation on my thesis topic, I spent the first half of 2007 piecing together my research proposal.  I knew I had a good topic, one that straddled the policy and academic worlds, tackling both social and technical questions.  But now I had to convince the two people sitting across the table from me.  It's a small seminar room on the side of one of the cloisters of the Saïd Business School in Oxford.  It's a late Spring day, and I'm sitting there in full sub fusc - white tie, gown, and all.  The questions come thick and fast, and the answers. . . well, they come, which is good enough!  Two hours later I leave the room, and they request some minor revisions to the proposal.  I get them in on time, and miraculously, in six months I have gone from seriously contemplating dropping my doctorate to initiating my data collection.  Christian, my partner in crime, however, is not quite as fortunate.  He has to wait an eternity, hoping the little letter with eventually come.  Days, weeks, went by with no word.  But just when I was getting thankful the windows in the office couldn't open enough to jump out of, a little note came for Christian, and I rushed for the Champagne.  I have to say the feeling of passing our first viva was fantastic. . .almost as good as the looks we got as we played croquet in the garden of the business school, at noon, with champagne in our hands.

     Well, now that the evening is growing merry, we all gather around the table for the first course.  I have decided to treat you to an appetiser of melted blue moon cheese over a sputnik pastry.  It's a dish that reminds me of decades gone past and many yet to come.  Picture a vast array of storage hangers, over two dozen of them in all.  Inside of each is plethora of gadgets from the history of NASA.  Satellites, helicopters, plutonium bombs, LOTS of planes (including a version of the X-43 I worked on…makes me think of the movie Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, "This belongs in a museum!" "So do you!"), and everything in between, including arcade games about space invaders.  This is the place for all of the stuff that NASA can't show in the National Air and Space Museum for some reason or another.  I was able to see this hidden wonder of the world because my friend Cindy work at the Smithsonian as an intern this summer and met one of the curators for the facility.  Of special note was a climate-controlled room that looked more like a mortuary than anything else, with bodies on bunks covered in white sheets.  As we were led in, I noticed a number of helmets on one bunk, and caught on to where we were - the space suit room.  There were all suits worn in space or early high-level flights.  Of amazing interest was when our guide showed us one suit with the name tag ‘Armstrong'.  Yup, that was the space suit Neil used to make the first moon landing, and I was only inches from it.  And next to it were his boots, still covered in moon dust.  I was completely speechless.

    That dish had a nice lasting finish on the palate, but it's time to clear our tastes for the main course.  How about a little sorbet?  This one comes from the Alps.  As you may recall, I went for a little jaunt through Austria in February, and a week of it was spent skiing in the Alps.  It had been years since I skied last, and it took me a couple of days to, shall we say, stay vertical.  But it was cold enough that the snow wasn't wet, the frequent greetings I made with it weren't too bad.  You may also have remembered a quip of mine in a previous Journal entry this year about playing it safe with life these days (I was talking about my sprained ankle at the time).  Well, the slopes were no different, and I took the slow and steady route to building up my confidence.  All the more time to take in the view, in my opinion.  I'm getting old!

    Well, with the sorbet fresh off our tongues, it's time to dive into the main course.  With the lights turned down low, the kitchen door swings open and there appears a flaming rib roast!  "Yum Yum!" Is all you can think to say.  I place it on the table and as the sweet smell of the beef tickles your nose, I begin carving it into two pieces.  The first is a small piece, only a few days in Vienna.  I had an address I wanted to go to - it was the home of the organisation I am researching for my doctorate.  I knew it was somewhere in the city, but not sure where.  Not wanting to simply knock on the door and ask to come in, and not having an email address to announce myself to, I decided to go the old fashion route and drop off a letter in their post box to request a meeting that week.  Two coffees and a topfenkolache later, I still hadn't found the office, and decided I had best call them before the caffeine gets me bounding off the Stats Oper steps.  The secretary directs me to the office and I drop the note off, and miraculously I get a call the next day and a meeting!  And with one quick swoop, my research is off the ground.
    The second slice of beef is much bigger, as it must be to account for the stories it knows.  Three months in the capital of the United States is bound to change a man, and that it did.  It was my first extended stay in America three years, and as you may recall from my Journal entry when I first returned, I wasn't as familiar with the land I left as I once was.  This was poignantly pointed out in my first few weeks as I tackled an ulcer (or something) that came about as a result of the lovely little extras that get put in the food in America.  Eventually I just returned to food from the farmer's markets, simple and clean, and that put me in order.  But while I may not have been ready for the food, I was ready for my research, and over the course of the summer I made some key connections and established myself in the research and policy communities from which I will be able to develop my doctorate. And all this complemented with new and old friends stopping by, nights out at concerts and trips to museums.  I came away from the summer with mixed views of my homeland and my place in it, but I think that's a good thing.  
    This was a year of mixing, just like the mixing I have done for the gravy I now pour over the beef.  I don't claim that it's the best gravy in the world, but it's my first attempt at it.  It is certainly complex, containing policy and academia, science and philosophy.  But it's a bit of a mess, globular and a little too chunky.  The gravy is always the hardest part for me.

    Now, what would a nice slab of beef be without all the trimmings?  Potatoes, smashed quite hard, and vegetables are now dished out.  As these complement the beef, so does my work complement my research.  I started my job as a Research Assistant for Sir Crispin Tickell this year.  Among other things, he was the Chair of the UN Security Council at the time of the fall of the Berlin Wall.  He was also the head of one of the Oxford Colleges, Chancellor of Kent University, and honorary doctorate of a long list of others.  He is now the Director of the Policy Foresight Programme within the James Martin Institute (where I do my research), and I am his minion.  Watching this man work, and working with him, is a fascinating pupilage.  I could do worse than follow in the footsteps of him and my supervisor.  Sir Crispin claims a good record on the international scene - while he was at the UN he managed to help end 3 wars and only start one!  A few more years under his wing and I think I'll have nowhere to go but up.

    Ah my, that was a scrumptious meal.  As you sit back in your chair - a little lower now - the dishes are cleared and from the kitchen comes a lovely dessert of the creamiest ice cream you've ever tasted, fresh from the Grand Ol' Creamery in St. Paul, Minnesota.  It was with great anticipation that I certainly looked forward to this, as it was a few weeks with many of my friends from St. Olaf.  We headed up to Sarah's cabin for much of the time; that resort with a beach, badmiton court, AMAZING kitchens - yes plural! - and fantastic friends.  Most of the time I was being hugged, as everyone was complaining that there was now way I could be getting enough hugs in England.  They were right, and I now have a photo album full of hug to turn to when I'm feeling a bit hugless.  And the Swing Dancing!  My old partner Amber was there and we went through all our old routines.  Those few weeks helped the juice of life ran through my veins again.  
    And what would ice cream be without chocolate sauce?  Well, this chocolate sauce is a bit muddy, as it's seen many a football (that is, soccer) game in the goal box.  Having had to turn down rowing for the time being because of its time commitment, I decided to return to another love, the defended of the net.  Springing at the earliest moment, diving from one side to the other, I seem to have developed a name for myself in the Oxford football tables.  First I was the second reserve keeper for the University graduate team, and the main keeper for the New College graduates.  Then, this Autumn, I found myself subbing in for the New College undergrad first team when their goalie went out with a twisted ankle.  7 games later, we went into the Christmas break at the top of the league table.  I only hope they can keep it up as I head to America for the month of January in 2007.

    My my, the stomach is full.  So what better way to end the night than with a lovely glass of port and some fresh fruit.  As the port is passed, the scene turns back to Vienna once more.  The night had fallen and the view was filled with the shimmering Hapsburg Palace.  I was there on the steps to the door, black tie and the ladies in masks.  This was the first Viennese Ball I had been to, and let me tell you, the night was amazing.  The dancing alone was breathtaking.  Waltzing in room after room, foxtrot, tango, even a bit of swing.  This, my dear friends, I could get used to.  Not having a partner proved not to be too bad, as anyone I asked to dance could most likely sweep me off my feet.  
    And that brings us to the delectable fruits now before us.  I am most grateful this year for the chance to be with my family more, and especially for the new addition of Will!  Getting to spend three months with Emily was such a treat!  She and I finally had the opportunity to meet each other as adults and I found a sister I didn't know I had.  It's such an amazing family I'm in, and I love finding new depths to it at every turn.

    Ah yum.  The candles have now burned low and the music is quiet in the background.  As you slowly find your sleeves of your coat and bundle for the world once more, I hope you're a little warmer on the inside.  It has been a treat having you and I certainly hope you come around again soon!  As the door pulls to, you hear me call, "Good night! And Merry Christmas!"