...but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
(but not too much, M still needs to get home Monday)
A busy week, late shifts at work, dark when I arrived, dark when I left. An interview on Thursday that had been hanging over me, uncertainty as to how well I did, relief it was out of the way. Office party in the evening, leaving work as the snow began to fall, bumping into Anna on the last tube home, emerging from the station together into the cold, dark air, feeling festive. A Friday night Christmas party, a red dress, a taxi ride home through the increasingly snowy streets of London. And this morning C and I woke to the whiteness outside, and more snow falling. A short venture to the shops for provisions, the muffled crunch of snow being compressed under my feet. Cars slipping backwards down the hill, passers-by mucking in to push vehicles upwards, place bits of old carpet under tyres. Back home by four for hot chocolate, a film, present wrapping, the light all but gone, fairy lights glowing. We're meant to be going to a Ceilidh tonight, not sure we'll make it. Christmas feels so close I can almost touch it, M's return even closer.