Welcome, friends, to the twelve dates of Christmas. Is this not an exceedingly nifty festive idea? (Thank you to Rockstar Diaries, from whence I thieved it.) And especially needed this year, as well: Henry commandeers so much of our attention – and rightly so, because he is delightful – that I find myself entering December and missing my other half. I need to do better at finding balance. And making time for twelve little outings (or innings; it doesn’t matter which) seems like an excellent way to start.
So, here goes: piano introduction, please.
On the first date of Christmas…
…we took ourselves off to London for the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. It turned out to be light on wonder and heavy on curried sausage and terrifying fibreglass Santas. But we still had tons of fun.
Photos are Instagrammed. Cheers, big ears.
I love London. I love the grandeur of it. The architecture, and the crowds, and the history-0h-the-history, and the Tube, and the fact that you can’t walk two streets without stumbling across another free museum or art gallery. We do London on our birthdays, so it’s full of celebratory memories. It’s lucky I’ve never lived there, because I’d never want to leave. Thankfully Henry seemed to like it just as much, even making so free as to vomit copiously and explode through his nappy in Pizza Hut.
I’m excited for eleven more of these, especially in the company of this guy.
Happy December to you!