Ooh, I had a really Christmassy weekend. That's a sentence that you wouldn't have got in this blog three years ago. But I did. I watched The Nutcracker, ate Christmas dinner street food (that's a roast dinner wrapped in Yorkshire pudding - how comes I've not eaten that before?) and dressed as Father Christmas.
And I won a race.
Yes, yes, yes. I know that those Santa Runs aren't supposed to be competitive, they're just a bit of fun. Yes, they're just a festive photo op; a spectacle of Father Christmasses. Yes, it should be all about raising money for charity. But you're just saying that because you didn't win. I did. It was a race and I won. In your face other Santas.
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To end on a less festive note, I'm still feeling sad about Pete Shelley.
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