More mince pies than you can shake a stick at. If you liked them before Christmas, you sure as hell won't want to see another one after, and if you didn't like them before Christmas, well...I don't envy you. A bout of "unseasonably cold" weather (you didn't see this coming? after how many centuries? really?). Lots (and lots and lots) of subsequent talk about how cold it is. Very beautiful snowflakes. Weekend girls with bare legs, pretending that it isn't unseasonably cold out. Lots of sniffles and coughs. Frost making art deco patterns on the cars at night. Stoic cyclists. Bare branches. A flurry over hot alcoholic drinks before Christmas (mulled cider, mulled wine...) followed by a general laziness about them after (who can be bothered?). Potatoes for dinner, every night. Root vegetable feasts and homemade soups. Log fires. Coal fires. The smell of log fires and coal fires on the streets. Scarves. Girls in very cool boots. Pubs, but not pub gardens. A brief glorification of the English summer ("oh, I can't wait for June...") followed by a berating of the English summer ("ugh, it'll just rain the whole time anyway). A general sense of polite but vaguely uncomfortable waiting.