A glorious end of year to all readers.

Yes, it’s that time again, 28 days since the last lunar event.
Just now we are hailing the “cold moon” in the sky.
For cold, read December.
Oddly, the name does not have any warm connotations of birth, re-birth or Nativity. It simply says what it is, the moon that hails the three coldest months of the year, December, followed by that deadly duo, January and February. The lack of reference to jolly Saturnalia is most likely because the 13-times yearly lunar cycles is rarely in synch with the quarterly solar calender, that is, the two solstices, plus the longest day and the shortest day. But whatever the reason, we can simply enjoy the lovely lustre of the December moon adding a touch of cosmic nous to the countless millions of artificial twinkles that grace our planet at this time. Until the light of 2025 sheds upon us all, a glorious end of year to all readers.

A super-sized Christmas to you

‘I hate Christmas,' said my sister angrily, one Christmas morning. 'I hate it; I wish they'd abolish it.'
'Yup, it's all humbug,' I replied, in effort to empathise. 
Friend, for me, Christmas is simply a time for loosening the belt, for eating and sleeping a bit more and working a bit less, for joining in family/friend networks, finishing books (both the reading and the writing of) and watching loads of silly DVDs. Which is why, a little later, I watched in growing astonishment as said sister, still in red/white Christmas jammies, went and steam-ironed lengths of mysterious, red-tinged net fabric and tied them into super-sized bows at the backs of the dining chairs. While I am far from bearing the mindset of Charles Dickens's famous miser, I do wonder at the mentality of a woman who holds a job as a TA, and looks after a husband, a cat and two daughters all at once, who grumbles vitriolically at the sheer amount of work that goes into the season of goodwill, and then who can still find it in her to transform her rational home into a Hollywood-ish, White (and red)  Christmas theme park.  And yes, I've said many times that Christmas is a feast of irrationality. But on that occasion, my sister was beyond all reason so I stood in solidarity, supporting her fantasy of the "perfect" Christmas. Whatever, we had a wonderful time that year, and we have upheld that ethos ever since, super-sized bows or no.
Whoever you are, whatever you do, a super-sized Christmas to you.