Feeling Christmas

Frost has not yet settled in London. But it's cold and wet, and the Sun makes fleeting appearances during the day, if at all. Fallen leaves litter the pavements. The trees are stripped bare, their twiggy branches resembling old, shrivelled hands as temperatures continue to ebb.

It's hard to feel the warmth of Christmas.

Yet in the unlikeliest of places, I do.

Sitting at a table in Starbucks, waiting for my Gingerbread latte, I hear strains of Sinatra beckoning me to 'make the Yuletide gay'.

I survey the cafe - I see people taking slow slips from their grande-sized caffe-something, childrens' mouths rimmed with chocolate from yule logs, shelves stacked with bags of Christmas blend and seasonal gifts, the red hanging lamps that illuminate a warm, orange glow.

And as Dee advances towards me, bearing the ubiquitous red paper cup, I feel my lips curl into a smile.

In one quiet moment, I sit there watching him and Danielle, loving them.

And I let that warm fuzzy feeling that is Christmas take over...