The holidays are actually here.

Snow!
Twinkling lights!
Log fires (if your wood isn't too damp)!
Chestnuts!
Tinsel!
More Snow! In your wellies, down the back of your neck, all over your hall floor, up the stair-carpet!
Credit card melting!
Mol & Liz were playing like street-urchins last night, on the pavement, and made a respectable 3ft-high snowman with bamboo arms and a carrot nose and stone eyes... And some arse in the night kicked it down and trampled it away. Typical Harringay YOBS. Kill joys.
I was waiting for Mol to ask me if we could bury the dead snowman (we have in the past buried dead ladybirds and butterflies) which would've been a confusing ceremony.
So, snowman death aside, it is all Christmassy and I've done lots of wrapping and the tree is dressed (although its needles are falling and its getting a bit autumnal) and we're packing up the house for the annual family Christmas get together.
Which means Mothers Ruin is having a little Christmas break too (although our destination does have internet and a mac-computer despite being in the depths of rolling countryside) and will report back later on after Christmas (that's if I haven't gone and exploded a la Creosote...).
So, merry Christmas! And if you don't celebrate Christmas then merry holidays!
Bon Vacances!
Joyeux Noelle!
(And lets hope you've all been very good girls and boys and the mysterious Father C gets down your chimney and gives your stocking a right and proper filling.)
Until next time, friends...