You know there is a sense of festivity in the air when a cancelled holiday to La Gomera (cheers, Globespan), turns into a fairy-tale wonderland of eight inches of snow in rural Perthshire. Disgusting amateur photobinge to follow.

But first, I regularly go past a shop – Lord alone knows what it sells, it has frosted windows and is calledFairytails. Yes, yes seriously:Fairytails. I have already floated the idea that they dock deformed fairies, and perhaps other mythical creatures, relieving them of unslightly growths that they could do without. But who knows.

It is next to ‘Colleen’s Rapid Salon’, a hairdresser which trades on the one factor which probably counts least when choosing the venue for your next hair cut.

‘Can I do it well? Bugger that, lady, I can do it fast.’

See? Thought not. That fifteen second haircut is going to cost you six months of social interaction, and a small fortune in millinery.

Edinburgh has risen to the occasion of Christmas rather magnificently, although there will be classes held by the council in the new year to stop the cyclists killing themselves by cycling into the new tram tracks in front of oncoming traffic. Big win, council, big win, Ruin Edinburgh with trams, and kill people who are actually doing something important to reduce emissions. Genius.

Just before the snow.

It is icy and benumbing in this part of the world and I have caned myself on multiple occasions just trying to move around.

For now, adieu. I have a Swede arriving in the morning, and one likes to be fresh-faced for such events.

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