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From Charles Dickens The Pickwick Papers

(stolen from a blog post from last year at Mange Merde)

And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas
brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment. How many families, whose members have been dispersed and scattered far and wide, in the restless struggles of life, are then reunited, and meet once again in that happy state of companionship and mutual goodwill, which is a source of such pure and unalloyed delight; and one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows of the world, that the religious belief of the most civilised nations, and the rude traditions of the roughest savages, alike number it among the first joys of a future condition of existence, provided for the blessed and happy! How many old recollections, and how many dormant sympathies, does Christmas time awaken!

We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped, have grown cold; the eyes we sought, have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstances connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but yesterday! Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home!

Cheryl and I watched Love Actually again last night. It’s a winsome movie, perfect for this time of the year. My parents got here today. They’re exhausted and temporarily without luggage, but glad to be here, glad to see Violet.

Cheryl made a wonderful bacon-mushroom quiche and I helped out with a delicious roasted-potato-and-mustard-vinaigrette salad. Dessert was molasses spice cookies and tea.

All are sleeping and snoring around me. It’s a lovely night.

Suddenly all REACT to a nearby CB transmitter which broadcasts.

			This is Sergeant Al Powell of the
			Los Angeles Police Department.  If
			the person who radioed for help on
			this channel can hear me, acknowledge
			this transmission...I say again...

172	INT. 33RD FLOOR - ON MCCLANE - NIGHT			172	*

				(to CB)
			I read you, Powell.  You the guy
			in the car?

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From Scrooged

FRANK:        It’s a night you’ve gotta party hearty, Marty.
Check this out. Whoa-ho! Don’t be so mean. Ugh!
[points to mistletoe]

There’s a rule, a tradition which says…
I have to kiss this girl.
She’s just upholding the law. It’s a federal law, actually.
Boy, that was very good. But you know what?
It wasn’t great. There’s only been one “great”.
There is a girl…
that I wish I were with tonight.
It’s a girl that I loved a long time ago.
A girl that I still love.
It’s not too late, is it?
Claire, you remember the Kama Sutra, page   ?
Our legs are like this. You circle me, chanting, before we begin?
It was practically impossible.
Tonight, we could do this without serious physical damage.

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