Two unexpected outcomes from Dry January. It’s far easier to say no to alcohol in a variety of settings than I anticipated it would be. Also, 0% lager is surprisingly good enough.
First solid nights sleep in over a month last night. 10 hours uninterrupted. Mood transformed. Hair in an absolute state. Inexplicably proud.
Well done, Mr Littler. Truly.
Bed by midnight. OK?
Well hello, Aldeburgh.
“What is Christmas?
It’s a snowman whose nose carrot has been stolen and subsequently eaten by a gypsy thief.”
Delayed annual tradition. Christmas Partridge on Christmas Day.
“Let’s meet the bell ringers of Norwich Cathedral.”
Swan Lake on BBC Two. Unexpectedly perfect programming for Christmas Day.
The oddest Christmas can now get underway.
Christmas Jigsaw 2024
First time watching The Holiday. Dear God. It’s awful.
My 22 year old copy of an annual read. First thing I’ve been able to properly read in 10 days. Feels like going on holiday.
Drawing up an order of service for a funeral shares some surreal parallels with editing a podcast episode.
Aiding partner buying black suit for funeral. The oddest process simply saying “Actually that looks good on you,” and then thinking about the event it’s for that I don’t want to go to. So much internal processing going on. Surreal.
Snowing in Lewisham. Wet, pathetic, useless snow. Initial excitement: sodden and subdued. Try harder next time, snow. Be snowier. Settle properly. I want massive drifts blocking my road, chaos in every direction—give me real snow.
