A Yuletide Exultation? Yeah! Why Not?

Hi Chaps and chap-eses. Greetings from a largely snowed-in / snowed-under Brit-land. Snowed under is an apt term for me right now: It's the 19th December and I have just woken up and sniffed the coffee – trouble is; more often than not of late it has been more likely the barmaid's apron sniffed (a popular British saying ) than a pungent arabica bean. What am I on about? Well just as we Brits have once again been caught with our pants down as regards the weather with nary a gritting lorry (or truck, for you poor misguided USA types) nor sprinkling of salt to be seen (well...who would guess it might get cold in winter? In Northern Europe? What a bloody shock that was!) so I have been caught napping. Of course it happens every year and I am always caught by surprise by the proximity of the dreaded 'day', but bloody hell I haven't even as much as bought a Christmas card yet. I get all excited about it then hit the pubs and bars and a those great intentions I have harbored about 'being ahead of the game' this year and not getting caught on the hop go sailing straight out the window. It's at this time of the year that I most gravitate towards those older establishments that populate the backstreets of Hampstead. Of course there is the famous 'The Flask' of flask walk, Hampstead but if you know where you're going and venture up into the hills you might come across 'The Holly Bush' – think low timbers and a roaring log fire; how traditional can you get? Then a little further afield – this particular establishment claiming a rather optimistically short 15 minute walk across the heath from Hampstead tube (subway) - there awaits 'The Spaniards Inn', also boasting a log fire if not quite so 'roaring' the last time I visited. Now, if you were to just throw in a suitably 18th century flurry of snow and... well, it's just heaven, isn't it. Actually, even my local and fairly dire branch of 'Wetherspoons' looked appealing given a dusting of snow and the obligatory snowball fight that had spontaneously ignited outside. It's amazing what snow is capable of here in the UK – otherwise fairly sensible (if terminally alcoholic) 50-somethings opening up a massed barrage of snow-orientated artillery against the pub windows in second-childhood rapture is a sight to behold! No I wasn't involved – I bloody hate the cold, me!

As for the rest: today I am ostensibly out to catch up on all those Christmas tasks that have been thrown to the wayside. But guess what? Yes, I've landed in a pub... one look at that snow and what choice did I have. A tankard of ale and an open fire!!!! And in a sense I am ahead of the game – many's the year when I have been out shopping late Christmas eve (no kidding) and with enough 'Christmas cheer' in me too... well, lets just say that I'd be unlikely to later recall quite what I'd bought or who for. Yet somehow I'd get it all wrapped – just without labels or recipient names or anything as mundane as that. All a bit of a guessing game come Christmas morn!

Right, well I felt I just had to add a pic and I chose this one which I happened across on Flikr among some unnamed person's photo set, which gave the impression that that owner of the set was the photographer – unlikely given that I have myself posted another of this same set here sometime ago and I can tell you it originated from a scan taken from a copy of 'Men Only' or 'Penthouse' – I forget which – dated between 1978 and 1980-ish. Unless of course it is indeed from an impoverished photographer now reduced to publishing his work on social network sites! Forget all that though; the question is would you allow such a lackadaisical attitude to discipline and wanton display in the institution of your choice? I have to say that I do approve of the uniforms though.