We walked into the bright sun towards the river.

It was so cold that our eyes were melting but that did not matter whilst we threw the stones in with our increasingly muddy hands and saw a horse.

On the way back, I carried her. Even up Fern Street, the steepest street in the World and, when we reached the top, we wondered why no one came out of their houses to congratulate us and give us badges.

Perhaps it was too cold.

We came home to soap and a fire with real coal from the Far East and ate money disguised as chocolate until it was time for lunch and then we ate that, too.

We agreed to meet again on Friday when it won't be Christmas anymore.



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