Being in Old Europe, where such things happen, it's snowed here - at last. Unfortunately the kids aren't here to enjoy it: Margo took them off to Pesselière on Monday, where it seems that they're still anxiously awaiting snow. They may be disappointed. I head off tomorrow, which is why I'm now in a mad rush trying to get things organised: clothes, finding forgotten packages and leaving them out conspicuously so that they don't get forgotten again, get files on the portable up to date and get it packed away ...
The house alterations have been legally declared finished, so we must believe this to be the case. As it happens it's true, if you don't count a myriad little details, and right now I don't feel like counting.
Anyway, it's another year down the drain. Nothing particularly notable happened - not a bad thing, as far as I'm concerned - and if I've any luck at all, and have lived a good and moral life, as I believe I have, 2004 will be much the same.
To finish, a short excerpt from The Economist: "... without its hyphen, extra-marital sex would be in a completely different moral sphere ...". And try to remember that the ratio of an igloo's diameter to its circumference is Eskimo pi.
Merry Christmas
Trevor
