Lights

The sky is losing its pink stripes as darkness falls. Ice has arrived, accompanied by glorious sunshine these last two days.

I think we should only have Christmas every two years. I am never ready for another one after a year. The Christmas tunes in the shops make me want to lie on the floor. I am sure it has all been said before, but I can't really bear this Capitalism-fest any more. I like the tree and the turkey, I like fairy lights and candles and some time off. The rest you can keep.

It really is almost dark, and there are still lights on in the school, where someone lingers, marking books and keeping company the kids with working parents, til they turn up to collect them. And there are streetlights and carlights.

Last night we had the Valley of Lights parade and festival in town. A little flavour of handmade parade in Winter. Plus a shadow performance of the tale of the summer floods and the town's recovery from them, featuring a sort of phoenix-heron rising from the soggy wreckage. It felt part of a very ancient tradition of making stories and plays and songs about local events, and was infinitely preferable to BBC news coverage.