Coffee, right there and advent calendar.

1. The coffee this morning is very tasty. There is no particular reason that we can discern. Perhaps we were just ready for it, and our biscuit and for each other.

2. Of course the very thing I've been trailing all round town for is in the pharmacy on the hill, well made and intended to last a lifetime, and best of all, of itself, rather than freighted with other items in a three for two deal.

3. Bettany and I lie comfortably across the bed checking our advent calendar app to see what the day has brought.

Cuddly, cheese board and anthology.

1. Alec unwell is daft and cuddly like a toddler. He comes up and lies in our bed while I'm working at my desk. This feels like a gift.

2. I'm still thinking about the superior camembert from the new fancy cheese shop that we had for lunch after supper, so I have a little more on fingers of rye crispbread.

3. From the introduction, I get the sense that the anthologist believes that perfect short stories exist; and that she has chosen stories for their excellence, and not because of obligations sent down from the marketing department. 

Expanded, on their way and an eerie evening.

1. To my surprise, the dried mushrooms I put in to soak last night have more than doubled in size.

2. I've been chasing around today trying to find somewhere to post my parcels. I don't have high hopes for the Post Office in the centre of town: I'm expecting a long queue -- but I stroll straight in, and minutes later, the boxes that have been burdening me are on their way.

3. The name 'Miss Minerva Tomgallon' popped into my head in the middle of the night and I dug out a copy of Anne of Windy Willows so I could enjoy reading about that eerie visit once again.

Bag of books, find and carried home.

1. My shopping bag is heavy with books.

2. I realise that the pink flower paperweight I have picked up in a charity shop has a tiny glass frog hidden within.

3. A man passes by pushing a bike. He has a small Christmas tree tucked into his backpack. 

Rammed, warzone and algebra.

1. The new bookshop is rammed with shoppers, which is a good thing for the owners.

2. We agree that with a bit of icing and some coils of liquorice barbed wire, it will look less like gingerbread and more like the first world war trench he needs for his history class.

3. My youngest is learning algebra, and I feel both happy and sad about that.

Morning visit, taste in music and reflection.

1. Eating cake, gossiping and stepping Nana through sending a text message. 

2. There is really nothing to do but enjoy the irony of a teenager criticising your taste in music because a particular track is 'just noise'.

3. Bettany and I are looking at her baby photos. We know who took the picture because they are reflected in her pupils.

The gift, gingerbread and dragon slayer.

1. Without a word, Anna slides a tube of Clement Faugier chestnut spread over the table. She knows me all too well.

2. Our gingerbread has not spread too much, and the experimental stained glass effect has worked tolerably well. I like the smaller star biscuits best; but I wish I could find our heart-shaped cutter.

3. It really is very satisfying to stab an imaginary dragon with an imaginary holy relic lance as we face the big villains in our game.

Hot choc plan, getting going and home safe.

1. A plan quickly made for a hot chocolate tomorrow. 

2. Once I get going with Christmas shopping, and start chatting to people, finding gifts seems to get easier. I notice that I've done a fair bit already.

3. One of those days when a bitter wind carries half frozen rain into every gap -- two grumpy children home from school and wrapped in blankets and duvets.

At church, meeting the editor and 2,000 people are listening.

1. Charles the Martyr tends towards high church, and the scent of incense and furniture polish draws a murmured, 'This smells like heaven,' from a dad herding small children through the door. The church is  looking particularly twinkly and charming decked out for the Christmas Tree festival. Nick and I are very pleased we managed to come along in the spare hour before I catch my train.

2. At a table is the actual editor of The Fortean Times, and we get to chat with him for a moment.

3. Uncanny Con, the conference for the podcast Uncanny, has taken The Royal Festival Hall this year, and the scale is quite something. I love best those pin-drop moments when people in the 2,000-strong audience share their paranormal experiences. I'm also pretty excited to see footage of a visit to a horribly haunted bothy, and to see the man who experienced said haunting.

New coat, fortified and looking for Christmas trees.

1. I try my new coat, and it is a relief -- warm and waterproof, not worn out, and properly fitting.

2. We drink mulled wine in a winter market hut served by jovial gents who would probably be more cheery if a gusty wind didn't keep blowing drizzle in under their umbrella, and if the roof was less drippy. The mulled wine fortifies us enough that we can enjoy a women's choir on the bandstand and support a local family facing the aftermath of meningitis.

3. After dark, we walk out and look for Christmas trees displayed in windows -- we're still easing into the festivities, what with one thing and another, and it was encouraging to see others who are further along.