Today I realised that I had yet to purchase a train ticket home. In a bid to correct this, I sallied forth to the particular end of the earth that is Oxford station. Having stood in the queue for a goodly length of time, quietly swearing at the people ahead of me who were taking an exceptionally long time in conducting their business, I walked up to one of the windows and spent the next half hour standing there while the helpful bloke behind the counter tried desperately to find me a train to go home on and also one to return on. Eventually, having changed my travel plans rather drastically, I had to cough up £60 for the wretched ticket.   On my way home, I purchased some boots to replace the ones that I was walking around in which were rapidly disintegrating. This seemed like a good plan, since every step I took was bringing me one step closer to going barefoot.   Today's advent calendar image: Christmas tree.
			The characters and situations in this diary are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings. Any resemblance to such things is coincidental, or just for humourous effect. All names have been chosen to implicate the innocent.