london at christmas

Sitting in my parent's house where it is hot in a way which we cannot conceive of back in brighton; expensive warmth, leather sofa warm. I travelled up this morning to Barnet, where I grew up, which is largely unchanged, if still diminishing in size each time I come here, becoming less and less like a world and more like an everyday suburb, the hub of nothing. My parents' house changes slightly - new carpets, curtains, tiles. My father is for decking it out like the inside of a boat-house; so I see white painted boards, model boats. The fridge is - I must say - exceptionally well-stocked.

I'm minded to do something about that.