The Five Days of Christmas
Dec. 30th, 2015 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
millionreasons1. Christmas Day, we cycle over to The Crown, near Victoria Park, for a Christmas drinkie. We cycle back through the dark streets carefully; everyone's had a snifter or four.
2. Boxing Day at my parents. My presents included a pair of exfoliating gloves (I like my skin attached to my body the way it is), a Chocolate Orange (because it's traditional, like the Queen's Speech and arguments), and a card clash protector (because nothing says Christmas like paranoia about your debit card being skimmed).
3. We travel to Nottingham to do six relatives in three hours. On the way back, misty cars loom at the top of the hill: UFO lights beaming fat and white down the road. One car leads others to Meadowhall for the sales, Pied Piper-like. A tree lingers blankly by the side of the road. The Christmas lights splash in the black wet ground.
4. Up to Mablethorpe. Walk along the beach in the bright, cold air; the first time it's been less than mild the whole of December.
5. Back to London: rows of trees splodge against the horizon like Rorsach tests. We drive through a countryside palate of yellow, blue, green, brown; no reds to be seen anywhere. We stop in Thundridge, Herts, purely for the signage:
2. Boxing Day at my parents. My presents included a pair of exfoliating gloves (I like my skin attached to my body the way it is), a Chocolate Orange (because it's traditional, like the Queen's Speech and arguments), and a card clash protector (because nothing says Christmas like paranoia about your debit card being skimmed).
3. We travel to Nottingham to do six relatives in three hours. On the way back, misty cars loom at the top of the hill: UFO lights beaming fat and white down the road. One car leads others to Meadowhall for the sales, Pied Piper-like. A tree lingers blankly by the side of the road. The Christmas lights splash in the black wet ground.
4. Up to Mablethorpe. Walk along the beach in the bright, cold air; the first time it's been less than mild the whole of December.
5. Back to London: rows of trees splodge against the horizon like Rorsach tests. We drive through a countryside palate of yellow, blue, green, brown; no reds to be seen anywhere. We stop in Thundridge, Herts, purely for the signage:
