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Oh dear.

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There are three guys who wait for the bus at the same stop as me most mornings. If one of them is there, the other two are there, every time. One of them is short, has reddish hair, and an oddly low forehead. One of them is half-oriental, and wears a sort of beret-like cap. And the third is tall, has very short cropped hair, and a kind of childish roundness to his features. I've never heard them speak, but occasionally they look at each other meaningfully, and sometimes all three of them will look at some other person, all at the same time. I'm dying to ask if they're really human, or just pretending.

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The Christmas decorations have been up in Dun Laoghaire for some time now - rather nice, actually, plain coloured lights in the streets, zigzagging back and forth over half a mile or more, and garlands and swags of greenery red ribbons, and small twinkling lights in the shopping centre. But apart from one rendition of Home for Christmas back around September, I hadn't heard any Christmas music. Today, however, Fairytale New York was playing in the shopping centre, and one of my co-workers has just gone past humming Sleigh Ride Together With You. I don't get much impression of the season approaching any other way - I don't watch TV, listen to any but a pirate alternative radio station, or read newspapers.

I usen't to care much about Christmas. But now that I have some significance to attach to it, between Yule and Christmas-in-Finland, I look forward to it every year.

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I don't like hot coffee. I like warm coffee. Not hot. Unfortunately, this means that I have to go and get coffee about fifteen minutes before I want it for it to be at the right temperature when I get it. But I never know twenty minutes in advance, so I always end up waiting for my coffee to cool.

It's not easy being green...

I drink cold coffee, too. Shiver, grahamb!

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By the way, I don't know if I posted this before, or if only inannajones did, but:

The infamous, fabulous, now actually traditional, Yule Party. Our place. 14th December. 7-8pm onward. Mulled wine. Chocolate log. Probably a cat in a tree.

We have crash space for a good few people - indeed, there's even a spare bed now, not just couch and floor.

Cambridge people are expected to make special efforts to attend. That means shekhmet, grahamb and oakdryad. :) It's traditional. Or at least, it will be if someone makes it this year.

If anyone needs to know where we are, confirm that someone will fetch them from the airport, or wishes to complain about being too far away, drop me a line.

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Just back from the Threshold of Ages game (went well). I have the cat down here in the sitting room so that she can't bother inannajones. I had to go and fetch her from the study - she heard me coming, and ran into the bedroom, and protested at being picked up. Now she's stalking up and down the sitting room, twitching her tail, and occasionally glancing at me and letting loose such a long-drawn meow it's almost a howl.

I am sorry to say that I find this funny. She's reminding me of an Irish teacher I had...