Nothing says Christmas quite like giant mirrored disco balls suspended over the street, at least, it does in Shoreditch.

And so to the work Christmas lunch yesterday, held in deepest Hackney. The doorway looked like it hadn't even been cleaned since circa 1980, all dirty tiles and on grubby Mare Street, but down the long passageway that led through the building and a turn right and... Voila! A chi-chi gastro pub kind of place with something like Farrow & Ball's French Grey paint on the walls and waiters in matching check shirts.

A sort of mad mix of trivia questions and Jenga ensued post-meal. I think the idea was that if you didn't answer the question right, you removed a Jenga log and if you knocked the whole thing over, you had to do a shot. What wasn't clear was if this was a punishment or a prize...

Today is the last work day for me pre-Xmas - amazing. Actually, what will be truly amazing is if I get all packed and organised before I go to... (drum roll...)... New York tomorrow! Whoop, whoop.

Last night's sub-Christmas – that is, a Christmas dinner with Christmas crackers and everyone sitting round in paper hats, with post-meal party games (mostly charades and who am I? [when you have to guess the famous person written on the piece of paper stuck to your forehead] and the yearly bottle of Bailey's close to hand – means that I've woken this morning feeling that Christmas is now over and I'm ready to get on with the rest of life. Not good - must get back in Christmas mood!

This pre-Christmas was held because, as my bf and I won't be in the same country on the big day, it was a way for us to celebrate it all together with our respective children. But, as I say, it does feel as if it's all over now!

Must be ever so quick this morning, as even as I type I should be rushing around getting ready to leave for work... Below is a look at the fog we woke to yesterday, the same which shut Heathrow and another of the smaller London airports. And, just to prove that no two days are alike on this island, today I woke to a frost so thick I was sure it must have snowed in the night. It has already melted though.

  

Going about one's normal life in London, it's easy to not see the details that make up the whole, like the fine air vent covers in Wood Green underground station. I like the way they hark to an actual green space, as if, when you leave the station you might find wild does and trees (it was once part of a wood, as my 1500s map shows), rather than the noisy, concreted-over landscape of shopping malls and a cinema complex. 

And now to rush!

In true life, I veer from thinking that I can't stand living in a big city even one more day – there are just so many people that it feels unbearable – to other times, when I think it is so incredibly beautiful, full of so much fun, that it starts to even the balance on having given up living in a country of my compatriots, near family and oldest friends. This morning, the sunrise, so poorly captured by my cheap camera, made it one of those times. This photograph goes nowhere near showing how completely orange the sky was. I mean, completely. Orange. Orange sky in morning, sailors take warning. And, yes, I know that in the UK they say shepherd's take warning (yes, really, they do!) – it's just another one of those little cultural differences.

Spent the weekend in Norfolk, on the beautiful east coast of England. This morning, good chum and I went for a last walk before the drive back to London and thought, "Whoa! What the...?" But yes! Coming toward us were three very sweet alpacas being taken for a trek. This is a thing, apparently. You pay money and then you get to walk one of these somewhat nervy animals along for an hour. Different, I suppose...

It was a lovely day, the kind where you think, "Hurrah! This is my life! And this world? It's f&6king amazing! So beautiful!" And to prove it, check out the blue of the sky, the grassy meadow and all accompanied by the sound of at least three different bird calls going on. Just wonderful. It wasn't even that cold for the first of December, though we had wrapped up in many layers. But walking along with a good friend, talking about this and that, stopping to chat to the alpacas, well, it's all good. 

It's also that part of the world where, when the tide goes out, it really goes out. This isn't even the whole hog and already all those boats are stranded.

We went on so many beautiful walks: along the coast, inland through Holkham Hall's grounds, as well as mooching around the town of Wells. It's one of those sweet places where, if you buy something, the shopkeeper still wraps it up in brown paper or, if you need to go get change, will put the thing you want to buy away behind the counter until you come back. In other words, the sort of people who make you feel as if they care and see you as a person, not just another body passing by.

I liked the look of these Brussels sprouts, still on their stalk and the realness of the partridges hung up outside the butcher.

On the other side of the doorway was a similar line of pheasants hanging up.

The light filtering through the trees of the grounds of Holkham Hall was like something from a dream and the deer were sometimes so still, I actually thought two bucks were statues
(duh, stupid city person!).

It wouldn't be the Norfolk coast, or any other British seaside, without the obligatory beach huts, so here they are (below). Lovely and well-loved relics still very much in use.

And now back to the London routine. Thank you J & S for a lovely weekend!