December. Ooh.

So it's the 1st of December, and I want you to know: I. Love. Christmas.

Back in SA, Christmas was fun for the actual day, or maybe week, but mostly it was annoying. Starting in September, when you heard the first carols being piped in the supermarket, all Scroogy feelings would rise to the surface and I'd wander around going 'bah humbug!' a lot. Presents good, of course, I love getting presents and I love giving presents, and food good too, but there was just too darn much of it. Christmas overkill. And in the sunshine and everything it was fairly garish and hideous, to be frank. Just pure Kitschmas.

But in London, Christmas works. It really makes sense. It gets me excited. And I'm a grown-up, and I don't even have any kids around me, but it so works. From about the second the clocks go back, I wander the streets and suddenly it's dark and cold, but there are Christmas lights all over and spangly gold crap in the shop windows and it's so cosy and cute and magical - honestly, magical - everything makes me gasp and go, ooohh! Christmas! yeah!

It makes all of winter worthwhile.

At least until January.