It's Christmas, it's Christmas, it's Christmas!

Is it possible to be drunk on Christmas cheer? Because I think I am.

I've just got back from the Christmas Carol Concert at York Minster, and I'm pretty sure even the most secular of souls would have had their cockles warmed by the soaring voices and charming tales. Being a slightly-less-secular sort (I have my Feelings on spirituality and organised religion, and they are personal and desperately dull, and don't affect the way I behave in everyday life, so I won't go into them here. One day, maybe, though being able to articulate this stuff is often beyond me. I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS), I was thoroughly swept up in the magnificence of it all. I cried. #inevitable

BUT IT WAS JUST SO GORGEOUS. The choir were stunning, and there's something about a roomful of voices chorusing together (whether or not they be in tune or time - I certainly wasn't) that fills me with such elation. And, let's be honest, it wasn't just a 'room', it was York fucking Minster, in all it's mind-blowing architectural glory.

When I think that people actually built this with their hands, I have to go and have a little lie down.

The readings, too, were wonderful. Charming Christmas poetry, wistful tales from aged pastors, and a brilliant section that detailed some thoughts on the holiday season expressed by children. Highlights: 'Christmas is when you have to kiss relatives you don't like' and 'I think you're meant to think that giving presents is better than receiving them. But it's not.' Oh, kids, you're always bang on the money.

Aside from inciting giggle fits from my housemates by insisting on rhyming 'mind' and 'wind' during God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, which may have ruined the mood slightly, I spent the entire concert beaming with glee, tear-stained and giddy. During O Little Town of Bethlehem and Hark! The Herald Angels Sing in particular, I closed my eyes and - you know on a really hot day when you let the sun beat down on your face and it's the most blissfully warm feeling? Well it was almost exactly light that - a warm glow in the sharp iciness of the winter air. Gorgeous.

I also managed to get 90% of my Christmas shopping done in TWO HOURS this afternoon. Like a boss. York is SUCH a beautiful city in which to shop (I was strolling around wearing a dumbface grin all afternoon), but holy moly does it bring into sharp relief how utterly poor I am. There were so many presents I saw that were ideal, but just too expensive. Remember when I had a job? Remember when I had disposable income? Remind me again why I gave that up?

I jest, I am blissfully happy on this Master's course and it was absolutely the right decision to come here. But still, POVERTY.

Being a poor student does foster some level of creativity, however. Some of the girls and I have arranged a Secret Santa with a) a £5 budget, and b) a theme: survival. Considering the spiralling pit of doom this Christmas 'break' will inevitably become - having to write TWELVE THOUSAND WORDS over the festive period is tantamount to torture, I swear - the presents should be tailored to ensure we don't all lose our minds. Excellent idea, and excellent fun to purchase. I only hope mine match up to everyone else's!

Also, I managed to co-ordinate my umbrella to my skirt yesterday. I must have looked like SUCH a douchebag walking around like that.

This was a thing that I did.

And now, I shall spend the rest of this evening watching The Sound of Music and quaffing home-made mulled cider. And by 'home-made mulled cider', I mean 'cider which I warmed in a pan and stirred with cinnamon and brown sugar'. That's basically how it works, right?

Whatever, I don't care. DRUNK ON CHRISTMAS CHEER. (And now cider.)

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Having handed in the last of my mid-term assignments on Friday (following the aforeblogged nervous breakdown one of them induced), I thought I might get a few days of respite before the workload kicked in and I was once more flitting in and out of my house so often my housemates started to wonder whether I was merely an apparition.

I suppose, technically, I did have a break - my parents came to visit over the weekend, celebrating their anniversary up Yorkshire like and stopping in to see me on the way. Aside from being crushed in the Christmas Markets on Saturday (York town centre + weekend x Christmas = NO), we had a thoroughly enjoyable weekend watching the football, catching up on family gossip and imbibing every kind of mulled cider my delightful town centre had to offer*.

I'd kind of forgotten how good it is to spend time with them. I think being at home last year ruined me a little - I was frustrated and caged and a little bit angsty, and they felt rejected and unable to help, which made for an occasionally prickly year for all. (Don't get me wrong, I wasn't Houseguest From Hell, but they were often aggravated by my choice to spend most evenings holed up in my room, laptop on knee, trying to pour myself into the screen in order to forget that I was living in Stoke for a few hours.)

Living away from home makes things approximately a billion times easier for us all – we had a proper, family weekend, and it reminded me what tip-top people they really are.

However, as soon as the week proper kicked in, I realised that – in reality – I had more to do than ever. Presentations to plan, birthdays to celebrate, directed readings to, um, read. Sometimes it feels a little like being tied to a skateboard, if you'll forgive the ghastly analogy; it's preposterously exciting to be zooming from place to place without stopping, always on the move, but occasionally – just occasionally – I get a little scared, and want to stop, just for a moment.

The people that seem to be suffering the most are my longer-term friends, which crushes me. I spent my last, rather lonely year forging the most incredible relationships with some of the best girls I've ever known, and not being able to speak to them on as regular a basis makes me want to gnaw at the furniture – I get withdrawls! I'm hoping that my discovery of Google Calendar and its ensuing organisational effect on my life will enable to me to schedule people in a little better. Not that I want to have to 'schedule' my friends into my ~social/academic butterfly~ existence**, but I do want to make sure I get enough of these excellent humans in my life. You know who you are.

However, I am exceptionally lucky to have met some utterly marvellous people up here in York, people with whom I have bonded at a speed and intensity I've never before experienced! I've never known such a sweet, smart and thoroughly lovely bunch of people, and the fact that we're all postgrads gives us all a much-needed support network, wherein we can cry on each other's shoulders over our workload (as I did last week), and celebrate each other's successes (such as the lovely Becky kicking intellectual arse and winning a place - as captain, no less - on the University Challenge team!). At risk of it going all wanky and tragic, having so many wonderful people around is a rather new feeling for me, and I'm absolutely cherishing it.

Another lovely evening was had last night, in which my poor put-upon housemates finally found a few hours where I wasn't holed up in the Berrick Saul building and could spend the night Christmasifying our humble abode. Too Much Fun was had by all, and while mine and Steph's haphazardness might have infuriated the perfectionists Cath and Emma, the result was a living room of festive wonders.

Yup, that's The Muppet Christmas Carol on in the background.

And to celebrate? A Christmas dance party, of course.

GOD we're cool.

*SO MUCH MULLED CIDER. Finally, the non-wine drinkers among us are vindicated with this warm, treacle-y deliciousness! Personal snaps for the Rekorderlig mulled cider with vanilla and cinnamon – I could quite happily drink myself into oblivion on that shit.
**ahahahahaha, whatever.