Nice-ness.
I changed my holiday plans slightly, and have spent the past three days at my Dad's house (rather than going back to Leamington on the 29th, as I had originally intended). I like the days between Christmas and New Year; the people who are forced to go back to work straight after Boxing Day miss out on some serious free time. My Dad's is a good place to hang out in that free time - it feels like a small cottage, and is in the middle of the smallest village I've ever spent any significant time in. The village has one pub that calls last orders at 2pm, before opening again in the evening - that's the sort of place it is, it certainly has the potential to go all Straw Dogs if necessary. All this quiet has been brilliant for reading (about wars and about international politics, about films and about documentaries, about ice hockey and about mixed martial arts). Aside from a evening trip to London yesterday to see It's A Wonderful Life at the BFI and eat beancurd in Chinatown, there has been no responsibility (apart from to keep the cups of tea coming) and even less rich food. This all sounds quite idyllic actually, and I guess it is.