The season
I haven't really thought about it before, but the last three years or so, I've spent some time in the UK in late November or early December, and I find I'm missing being there around this time a lot. I've absolutely no reason to complain, because I've managed to travel much more than I expected to this year, but it still feels odd. I'm such a creature of habits.
Christmas is all about traditions, for me, and I guess that's part of it. I suppose I made one inadvertently. Who knew? I'll miss Fake Christmas with smaych and everyone, I'll miss seeing London all decked out with lights; I'll miss hot foods in cold streets and duckface's nan. I miss pies.
For some reason, I keep thinking about having coffee in Lime Street station, waiting for the train to London.
Part of me wants to work out some crazy plan and go anyway, but every weekend until Christmas is fully booked with stuff I can't beg off. Going between Christmas and New Years would be odd, and unreasonably expensive.
I'm horribly spoiled, and I miss it.
Christmas is all about traditions, for me, and I guess that's part of it. I suppose I made one inadvertently. Who knew? I'll miss Fake Christmas with smaych and everyone, I'll miss seeing London all decked out with lights; I'll miss hot foods in cold streets and duckface's nan. I miss pies.
For some reason, I keep thinking about having coffee in Lime Street station, waiting for the train to London.
Part of me wants to work out some crazy plan and go anyway, but every weekend until Christmas is fully booked with stuff I can't beg off. Going between Christmas and New Years would be odd, and unreasonably expensive.
I'm horribly spoiled, and I miss it.