Christmas was brilliant. And not merely because my wife bought me Avengers: The Age of Ultron. We went to mass on Christmas morning, and that set the tone for the whole day. The sun was coming up as we walked to church, people were walking their dogs, children were riding their new scooters. We both had colds, so we coughed and spluttered through Silent Night. And then we went home to unwrap our presents.
The lunch was delicious (if you're in the UK, and you can get to a Marks And Spencers, try out their gammon with cranberry and orange sauce). The Christmas episode of Doctor Who was okay, better than the (I thought) disappointing final episode of the season, Hell Bent. But it felt great to bathe in the peace.
I'm back at work now, grudgingly. We're all in a hangover state- there's leftover Christmas goodies, and nobody's doing all that much work. A vague feeling that you're missing something good on television, although you're probably not. But also the tension which arises from knowing that next week will be hell. The fares will go up, the transport will grind to a halt, the rest of the population will go back to work, and everybody will be frazzled and bad tempered. And you're at the start of a brand new year, and this time you have got to get to grips with it. We shall see.
I haven't opened my novel-idea notebook in over a week...


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