Well, I went back to Carnaby Street after dark, and the giant construction paper loops were lit up, not from within, which would have been awesome, but at least spotlighted, which didn't look too shabby. Also, the atomic/molecular structure snowflakes over Regent Street do light up from within and constantly change colours, which makes them look far better by night. Their greatest appeal, though, would probably be to people on drugs, who could easily get so caught up in gawking at them that they might be run down by a speeding taxi and never even notice.
What else? Didn't mean to diss queens in yesterday's, and on reflection, Christmas decorations and store windows in nearly every city are most likely the province of amped-up Godless queens. I mean, who else could so fully get into that sort of spirit? It's not without reason that it's common here to refer to something being "as camp as Christmas." I think the problem with London's decorations is more that the queens are subject to the dictates of the same council committees that gave us tower blocks and tried to replace Christmas with "Festivus" or "Winterval" so as not to offend any non-Christians. Much of English civi life has taken this give-no-offence policy to such extremes that virtually everyone is offended.
In other news, great gales blew across the British Isles early this morning, fiercely rattling my windows of my top floor garret and sending leaves and rubbish flying down the streets, but otherwise barely troubling this grand old house. I did for a moment think my windows, which are shaped like - there must be a term for it, but I don't know it - church windows, you know pointed at the top (must be a challenge to find glass to fit them if they ever break) - crashing in on me. But they held fast, even though a great deal of the gale did come seeping in through the gaps. Fortunately, it was an almost preternaturally warm wind; I didn't even need to turn the heater on today.
And now the storm has passed, there's a dazzling blue sky overhead, and England is awash in gentle sunlight. Or at least it will be until the fast-approaching dusk (around 4 in the afternoon this time of year, and it's already almost 3) or the next storm arrives, which, given the fickleness of this climate, could be even sooner. In the meantime, I'm off to town.