I wear the Coronet of Rassilon!

It is ridiculous that hearing certain Christmas carols should make me choke up.

Visiting friend has returned to Birmingham. It was an excellent visit. We were watching The Five Doctors earlier today, and agreeing that yes, Peter Davison was so very good at looking agonised or mind-controlled. (And other things too.)

Back to work tomorrow. Must also post cards and presents and do various other vigorous things. Am trying to get brain into writing, but brain did not comply this evening. Shame on brain.

---

Innocent's Song

Who's that knocking on the window,
Who's that standing at the door,
What are all those presents
Laying on the kitchen floor?

Who is the smiling stranger
With hair as white as gin,
What is he doing with the children
And who could have let him in?

Why has he rubies on his fingers,
A cold, cold crown on his head,
Why, when he caws his carol,
Does the salty snow run red?

Why does he ferry my fireside
As a spider on a thread,
His fingers made of fuses
And his tongue of gingerbread?

Why does the world before him
Melt in a million suns,
Why do his yellow, yearning eyes
Burn like saffron buns?

Watch where he comes walking
Out of the Christmas flame,
Dancing, double-talking:

Herod is his name.

-- Charles Causley