An eighteenth Nutcracker weekend, a birthday boy, and one day off. Bristolian strolls under wintery white skies, beehive brunchin’, and mixed nut spicin’. Folksy Christmas carols and grinchy rhymes, kitchens that smell like rosemary and thyme. Suitcases of crafts and plant shopping after noon, speakeasy cocktails and carrot cake for two. This is all my tired brain can manage tonight, please stay tuned, more soon.