Homesick For A Winter’s Christmas

I find it very bizarre that I can be feeling homesick for a place when I am currently living in the place I grew up.

I’ve mentioned before how much London feels like home to me, and now at Christmastime I am feeling the pang of longing for Old Blighty. 

There is something magical about London at Christmastime. Especially coming from a hot climate, finally having a cold Christmas was like something out of a fairytale.

Chestnuts really DO roast on open fires (well on BBQ style things on Oxford Street).  You can sing “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” and there is the small chance that perhaps, just maybe, it might be.  The weather outside is frightful and the fires are delightful (as opposed to here, where the weather outside is frightful and the Air-Con is so delightful).

I’m missing the twinkly lights on Oxford and Regent Streets, the store fronts of Selfridges & Debenhams lit up, Hammersmith Square’s Christmas tree and the German sausage hut.  I’m missing mulled wine, ice-skating at Kew Gardens, hot chocolate, seeing Santa land at Covent Garden.  And I’m sorry Myers and David Jones, but the Harrods Christmas Store shits all over you both.  Then sneezes on you. 

But most of all, I am missing the people that make London feel like home. And no, not the charity muggers & London Lite wankers outside Hammersmith Station.  I miss my London family, my pub boys, and some of my very best friends. Who despite the distance and time apart are still as good a friends as back on October 2008. 

Wish I could say the same about everyone on the Sunshine Coast.