Waterloo East looking west.
A number of people whom I know have stopped sending Christmas cards. I like the practise. As you get older it helps establish the fact that are still alive, presuming that you are. When I don't hear from someone who usually sends cards I confess to worrying a little. I like making Christmas cards. Last year I entrusted the job to a company operating from a shop in Mount Pleasant to whom I supplied my photograph. Their work lacked what shall we say, the love that I try to apply to the job. This year modifying a photograph of a piece of graffiti, imposing a festive message, designing, printing and folding the card is all my own work and though it may not be highly professional it is performed with at least a smidgen of, what shall we say, love.
A neighbours cat which has taken over out garden as a part time resident stops as it crosses the road to inspect me with a resentful stare. I realise that it is the colour of a fox. There are foxes which I have seen recently which I can distinguish from this cat because of their scruffy coats and confident gait. The cat ( is it Burmese of Siamese? It has the lean and hungry look of oriental felines ) is altogether sleeker, and when rebuked for scaring birds, scuttles off (uncat-like when you think about it), without a shred of dignity.