For anyone familiar with London during December, you will know that once the temperature drops, and the light dims, the city takes on what I like to call the Christmas-Threw-Up-On-Me look. You can't wander down a high street, visit a park or shop without being assaulted by colourful lights, Mariah Carey's singing and mince pies. Also, drinking. Even if you aren't attached to an office and their Christmas festivities, you can find yourself caught up in their merriment just by being in the same pub, bar, or restaurant. It's a very real hazard. Which brings me to why my blog has been on the quiet side the last couple of weeks. The first very real excuse is that I have been toiling away at the library, eager to finish a draft of my manuscript before the festive season completely takes over (and when I will find myself in France which I canNOT wait for!). The second very real, though less worthy, excuse is that I have, yes, been caught up in the drunken merrimen
melbourne writer, london town