transport

One more Tube view, with December skies over Putney - and then, when I'd caught a 93 up to Wimbledon Village, everything was in full swing for a Village Christmas Fair,  Or, maybe, Fayre.  I'd missed Santa Claus arriving on horseback, but there was a large brass band playing Hark the Herald Angels Sing, and a funfair clearly (and successfully) aimed at the smallest people.  And families galore, with balloons.  It's a strange experience to be navigating The Festive Season whilst also firming up on funeral arrangements - I feel curiously detached, which is hardly a surprise, but also powerfully nostalgic for Christmases Past.  That's no surprise either - I think it was, by far, my mother's favorite holiday, and she always made a big thing of it - tree, cards, paper chains (that was a long time back), wreath on the door, Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols, red candles, polishing the silver and brass.  That is, I was set to work polishing silver candlesticks and the brass coal scuttle.  I know that if such a thing as Wimbledon High Street turning Christmassy in this way, I'd have been taken along when I was seven, and I'd have loved every minute of it.