The gilded, balsa wood tree angel is a Treasured Possession, picked up on a trip to Bali in a Previous Life, long before it became apparently necessary to blow up Australians. She must be tougher than she looks to have survived the myriad house moves and bacchanalian celebrations, over the years. She needed a little pva this year, but hey, don't we all.
Christmas tree-wise, Poppalina 2007 goes Crazy Willow. Tricky to decorate, and impossible to photograph, but fabulous at night with the icicle lights on (a paradox, I know). Mym's still bitching that it doesn't smell of pine and therefore Christmas and it doesn't, it's true, but damn it looks classy, and I'm getting philosophically uncomfortable with the pine tree thing. So she'll get over it.
I have to tell you, I had a lovely day. Three hours in my favourite cafe with The Christmas Fairy didn't seem like nearly long enough. I saw other friends, people I love dearly, in a gorgeous, unplanned, perfect timing sort of way.
And all of it in a warm, monsoonal rain. I can't tell you what that kind of weather means to a People in Drought. It was glorious. Drivers gave way to each other in the peak hour traffic, citywide, this evening. They were so blissed.
Now, this is good. This. I could get used to.