December is my favourite month of the year. There's my birthday at the beginning, Christmas and New Year's Eve at the end and the vaccuum in the middle filled with the excitement of getting to Christmas, as well as the end of exams, the university year and a few weeks holiday. Also snow.
Snow is one of my favourite things about this time of year, it's incredibly fun and you can build giant snowcocks on every street corner if you so wish. it blankets everything in beauty, and, given the right type of cold and therefore the right type of snow, makes winter even more magical. Ice or sleet or sludge, and frankly ain't nobody got time for that.
Which is why it's incredibly bizarre being in the south of France in December for the first time in my life. There's no Christmassy feel (yet). The skies are blue, and it's relatively warm all things given. The nights are wicked cold however, so don't let Provence trick you with that one. Deciding to just wear a jumper into town instead of my large winter coat and two jumpers despite coming back late at night was a terrible terrible mistake. I swear I nearly got frostbite.
I'm all geared up to have an amazing Christmas with my mum and sister here, who are flying out to visit over the Christmas period, and i'm quite excited for them to come over to be able to enjoy Provence as much as I have, but I still feel at the moment it's not festive enough.
I need inches of snow and blistering cold to make that market-stall Glühwein feel so much better for my health. (on that note, i'm so far unimpressed at how unauthentic it has been. It needs to be spiced, given in cheap yet large quantities and it needs to be served with cheer amongst roaring laughter around the stand for it to be truly authentically German. I'm going to Berlin for my yearly fix so it's all not lost though).
I promise I will be more upbeat and jolly about Christmas soon though, there just needs to be snow and a few Christmas songs to be played at me for me to succumb to festive cheer.
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