The Pleasure Index

December really does seem to be a month of lists. Shopping lists, to-do lists, wish lists... I'm a huge fan of The Huffington Post, and all month the majority of their content, particularly in the Books section, seems to be countdowns and best-of lists. What's been this year's greatest novel, who are the top ten writers of the decade, and who will take the title of biggest publishing story since the Millennium: will it be Twilight, Harry Potter, eBooks, or those cheeky fraudsters JT Leroy and James Frey?

So I've put together a list of my own. Be it literary, musical, visual or sensual, here are the things that made me happy in 2010.

"Teenage Dream" by Katy Perry. I was a fan of hers already, but this love letter to youth and optimism makes me smile every time I hear it. The pitch-perfect (and shamelessly autotuned) boyband version in Glee also makes me weak at the knees.

Hurts. The musical partnership burst onto the scene this Spring with their New Romantic throwback hit, "Better Than Love". A few months later I invested in their album, Happiness, and was swept away. Every song on this record has epic scope, spinning tales of broken hearts, personal tragedies and fragments of hope. Highlights include "Devotion" featuring Kylie Minogue, "Stay" and "Evelyn". This album was the soundtrack to me falling in love this year, and getting my heart trodden on.

Twitter. I joined this month out of boredom and curiosity. So far, I have the impression of it being a kind of Facebook for celebrities, spammers and perverts of a very particular sort (they like to post 'twitpics' of their own naked parts). A constant source of amusement.

First dates. I've had a lot this year, as part of my resolution was to get "out there". I became something of a dating machine, and may well have got hooked on that feeling you have about half an hour before you meet someone; the butterflies, the hopes, the shiver of lust.

"My Horizontal Life" by Chelsea Handler. Never before has the written word had me in fits of giggles. I'd not heard of Chelsea before she hosted the VMAs this year, but she seems to have become ubiquitous since then, gaining particular notoriety for her choice words against Angelina Jolie. I have nothing against Ange, but I'm not sure she could sit down and write a memoir as searingly funny as this, without a single note of pretension.

Bulgaria. This is where I learned that skinny-dipping at sunrise is an effective preventative measure against hangovers.

True Blood, Season Three. The loveable, if daftly named Sookie Stackhouse returned to my screen and my heart this summer, bringing her impossibly sexy co-stars with her. This was the year that everybody began to doubt vampire Bill's devotion to Sook, which meant that his tall, blond, Scandinavian rival Eric got more screen time. Yay! We also got werewolves this year - naked ones. And Sam showed a darker, manlier side. Not to mention the actual storylines, which revolved around a centuries-old vendetta and Sookie finally discovering the source of her unusual powers. All in all, I am physically on tenterhooks until the guys, gals and gays of Bon Temps return for Season Four in 2011.

Thai food. I overdosed on conventional curry while staying in India this Autumn, but can't get enough of this lighter, fresher tasting cuisine. A Thai green curry is even simple enough for novices to make - perfect.

The bookstall on my local market. I am a sucker for a deal, and with each almost-new paperback averaging around two pounds each, I easily became addicted. Some great finds this year included Out by Natsuo Kirino, a Japanese thriller, Hey Nostradamus! by Douglas Coupland, an existential soap opera, and Summer Crossing by Truman Capote, a slim novel which holds the seeds of Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Vodka. Has never let me down, and never will.

Heartbreaker. A French comedy about the art of seduction. I watched it on a plane, after a day and night of sleep deprevation, and it still impressed me.

The Taj Mahal. I expected to be underwhelmed. I anticipated an anticlimax. I have never been more happy to be proven wrong. In fact, my entire Indian experience was one great pleasure, if you exclude the cursed gifts which I have mentioned in a previous post. My best friend and I were in Rajasthan a mere week before Russell Brand and Katy Perry visited. Always nice to be able to say we did it first.

Ke$ha. It's not often that I find myself wishing a celebrity was my friend. Next to this wonderful woman, my own antics would appear self-contained and conservative. Her songs are pretty good too.

The elephant in the room

I'm starting to believe in curses, and here's why.

I recently went on a trip to India. It was an adventure, an eye-opener and all-in-all a rather great experience. My old pal Z joined me, fresh from a month in Kenya, and as I flew back to London, it was with a pang of envy; she was moving on to Thailand. But I digress.

I brought back some gifts for my friends and family, and among them were three small wooden elephants, all from a tiny shop in one of Jaipur's many bazaars. I'd haggled shamelessly with the shopkeeper and got them for a steal - looking back, I suspect he may have wrought some kind of supernatural revenge.

The first carving, I gave to the man I was seeing at the time. While I was away, he'd moved into his new place a few neighbourhoods over from my own, so I gave him the elephant as a housewarming present. The second elephant I gave to Al and Kay, a lovely couple that I've known for years. And I gave the third to my good friend Cleo, who had just moved in with her boyfriend.

The mojo took a few days to work. I spent some time with my man, happy to be home and even happier that he was now living so close. Then, one rather chilly Tuesday, an innocent conversation turned serious. We had a difference of opinion. The conversation went on, and ultimately we decided we weren't right for each other. I brushed it off as best I could, and chalked it down to experience.

The next week, I got a call from Al. Kay had left him, after two and a half years, with no explanation other than he didn't love him anymore. Al was devastated, and my heart went out to him. A part of me couldn't help feeling the slightest bit culpable - after all, all had been well in our love lives until I brought those little wooden elephants back from India...

That was a few months ago. Now I hear that Cleo and her boyfriend are fighting. I'm usually a very rational person, but under the circumstances, I've advised her to burn the gift I gave them.