The spirit of Christmas present

Not the most exciting day at work and not the most inspired day of photographing. Christmas is intruding, needing attended to, sensibly taking priority lest I wake on Thursday snowed in again and unable to make my tiny contribution to the present buying, finding myself at the village shop on the 24th buying Mandy a Scotsman calendar and a packet of potato scones for Christmas. That would not be wise. And no fun. I like buying presents. It's the next best thing to buying stuff for me. Sometimes the two coincide.

This evening Ewan's Beavers Christmas party was cancelled because it was a wee bit icy on the path to the scout hut (I kid you not. Has no one heard of grit, salt and a shovel? Does Be Prepared mean nothing to these people?) so Mandy brought him and Ellen into Edinburgh to see the lights, have a play on the rides and have a burger or a hot dog. Something mechanically recovered. And much enjoyed it was too. By them at least. All I could see was a variety of mechanisms for fleecing tourists. I mean, £4.50 for a dried up burger with a grating of the cheapest cheddar? Bah humbug. £2.50 for a styrofoam cup of burnt filter coffee? No ta. Cheap wine with spices and no alcohol in it: that'll be £3 please. What the fuck??