The glitter is gone, the twinkling lights have been turned off, the holiday decorations are packed away and the festivities are over.  The nights are long, the days grey and wet and everybody has a cold.  It must be winter. 

The holidays were a hoot, however, beginning with my office Christmas Do. (Yes, we're still allowed to call Christmas 'Christmas' over here, though the PC Police are beginning to make inroads.)  This was my first Christmas here as a living, working UK resident and it was great fun to watch my co-workers shooting off party poppers, pulling Christmas Crackers (a sort of exploding party favor) and wearing silly hats at the dinner table.  It was as if they'd forgotten they were British. 

From then on it was the usual flurry of dinners, outings and nipping down to the pub.  As is my habit, I opted to remain home on New Year's Eve.  I was not, however, able to observe the tradition of watching the ball drop in Times Square, so I had to settle for some really bizarre TV shows, which made little mention of the shift from 2002 to 2003.

As it turned out, that didn't matter; we weren't likely to miss it.  Another British custom is the setting off of fireworks at midnight on New Year's Eve.  Fireworks are legal here and so, at the critical time, it sounded as if The Battle of Britain had broken out again.  My wife and I stepped out onto the balcony where, all around us, we could see and hear fireworks shooting into the night sky. 

New Year's Day found us in London at a concert; another British tradition.  The finale featured inspiring songs such as 'Land of Hope and Glory' and, of course, 'Rule Britannia,' where the female vocalist pulled open a seam on her gown and turned herself into a singing Union Jack.  Many people in the audience were on their feet waving little flags (obviously, they'd done this before) and everybody was screaming out the chorus: "Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves . . ." 

This time, I didn't wonder that they'd forgotten they were British, only that they'd forgotten they'd lost the Empire.

Seriously though, it was all great fun and an inspiring way to wrap up the season and begin the New Year.

Weather-wise, winter in Sussex couldn't be much different from New York.  We have had some warm Christmases there, but this year, I hear, they were buried in snow and spent a few days digging out, while here we were drenched with rain and spent a few nervous days eyeing the rising rivers.  Many did break their banks and there was some flooding but the past two days have dawned clear and cold, giving the waters a chance to recede.

For the first time since my arrival, I have seen snow.  About two Centimeters fell the other morning; I took photos.  Centimeters!  Back in NY they measure snowfall in feet. 

So here, as everywhere, with the festive season behind us, there is nothing left to do but get on with it.  I have to admit to some dreary days but, despite the almost daily parade of low clouds and the odd sprinkling of snow, it is very green here, unlike in NY, where the intense cold puts everything it doesn't kill into deep hibernation.  Even now, as I rattle my way toward the coast and my office, the meadows, the downs, the forests, gardens and hedgerows are all vivid green, dusted with frost and sparkling in the morning light.  That, alone, makes the winter just a little bit more cheerful and easier to endure. 

So far.

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