But wait, no summer is back, if a little breezy. From my safe mountain hideout I can see the white horses of the atlantic ocean sweeping too and fro, in and out awaiting perhaps the command of Neptune.
With December, comes Christmas although I still remember my first Christmas in these islands. After day 25 the celebrations continued with expectant faces of children still delivering mail to Father Christmas in box, this time a little more digital.
It was only in the next few days I learned the that the Spanish Christmas is in fact 6 January, the British 12 th night where we Brits dispense with the festivities for another year.
Another cultural lesson learned
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