25/12/2025
"Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve—old Scrooge sat busy in his counting House. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people on the court outside, go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement-stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already—it had not been light all day—and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fog came pouring in at every c***k and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest the houses opposite were mere phantoms."
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol in Prose
Merry Christmas
