A thousand coughs and sniffles

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Last night we walked across the Square, emptied of its Christmas market, the illuminated trees looking like the trees which gave James Thurber’s great uncle chestnut blight, only rather more festive.

The cathedral’s midnight service accommodated about a thousand, most of whom had colds.  It was … tasteful.  Won’t bother with that one again then.  I miss the raw edges of home grown celebrations.

The nearests and dearests have enabled me to see what music looks like – in one format, which is 33 rpm.  Amazing!

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