Christmas came at the end of a bitterly cold week. I woke up just after eight to weak grey light, a hoar frost on the pruned back tree tops and six-day-old snow still covering the garden. In the kitchen brussels sprouts had been left to soak in a plastic bowl next to last night's empty beer bottles. I put on the kettle, added a swig of Vana Tallinn to a cup of coffee, and sat down to open my presents: chocolate coins, boxer shorts and socks, playing cards with gardening tips, clothes and books, deodorant, Spanish wine and a big box of shortbread biscuits.
Happy Christmas.
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