So this is Christmas, and what have you done? As John Lennon was want to sing.
Well, it's Christmas, almost anyway, and tomorrow I'm hopping on a plane and heading across the Ocean to good old Blighty, land of my birth, that precious stone set in the silver sea.
By all accounts it's bloody cold. But hey, it's England and it's Christmas and this years there's a good chance it'll be a white Christmas. What's even more amazing is that there's a reasonable chance it'll be a white Christmas here in Houston. Now *that* is something I'd like to see. Well, except it would mean I spend Christmas alone instead of with my family in England. Not good.
I don't really recall that many actual white Christmases from my childhood, although I have the same mental image that most people have, of Christmas day with huge snowflakes falling outside, and a snowman leaning drunkenly over to one side out in the garden. OK, maybe not *everyone's* snowmen were inveterate drunkards, but mine always were. Probably a good thing I'm not the supreme being, otherwise the entire planet would be populated by dumpy misshapen beings questionable dress sense and one eye lower that the other.
Hmm. Sounds like certain parts of the north of England.
Well, anyway, whether it's snowing where you are, or perhaps even blazing sun for the antipodean readers, have a lovely Christmas, enjoy Hanukkah, or whatever. God bless. Lictor.