As I turned into their road on Friday night it started to rain heavily, which just made the light spilling out from the open door that little bit more welcoming. We ate Chinese and watched Up, the latter thanks to the kindness of fuzzytoedcollie. It was a bit difficult to side with the grumpy old widower and the tubby
Dug the dog was the best thing in it, especially when he said "I have just met you! I love you!", which is absolutely what dogs say (and what I say right back to them).
On Saturday, astonishingly, it didn't rain. This was astonishing not only because it broke the pattern for the last fortnight (though it started up again in the evening) but because we were off to the Christmas Fair in Portsmouth and in my experience it always rains at Christmas Fairs.
The jolly Victorian orphans, convicts and prostitutes were thus able to frolic gaily in the artificial snow without getting their crinolines all soggy, and it was a joyful scene of Dickensian consumerism. Chik'ki and Louvé found lots of lovely presents for their loved ones while I, er, found lots of lovely presents for myself, like ginger cheese and olives stuffed with entire chillies.
There were many samples to be taste-tested; as I was enjoying some rum liqueur a uniformed peeler popped up behind me to ask if I was twenty-one, and I went all simpery.
In the evening, just as we did after the Christmas Fair last year, we decorated the tree and watched a Christmas movie (How The Grinch Stole Christmas).
It's strange how something you've done twice can feel like a tradition - in fact, it already felt like a tradition after the first time. I hope it's one we can keep up for many years to come.