My outfit for the Nutcracker last Saturday, bare legs, no coat - well hard!
I have now been to the Nutcracker 43 times and still gaze in wonder at the music and movement.
You know it's almost Christmas when people and buildings wrap themselves up like beribboned boxes.
Drinking during the day is positively encouraged.
Winter Wonderland Hyde Park.
Grown ups have a licence to thrill.
T: I want a polar bear
Hubs: No, no one wins, I'm not doing it.
T: I want a polar bear that comes up to my waist.
Much sighing, nervy to-ing and fro-ing from foot to foot, ok then.
Hubs: I won you a British Bulldog!
T: I don't like bulldogs, I wanted a polar bear.
Hubs: You wretch, no one wins, no one, I beat the carnies, they shot lasers into my eyes, I won a dog for you.
Fear not a wee boy went passed and I offered him my pooch, he snatched it but I'm telling you, his eyes went to those big fluffy white polar bears.
I gave away a puppy at Christmas, feel free to call me Cruella.
Misteltoe bundles at Fortnum & Mason.
British people are seen kissing in public.
I use my Smysthon Antonia bag, with its oh so spectacular shagreen clasp for the second time and discover it has a padded ipad section. Handy.
I make my bi annual pilgammage to The Wolseley.
And have my usual hissy fit with foreign staff in every shop in London over Scottish money being, or not being, legal tender.
There are more people than bibles in our churches.