Glum, chilly and wet in Stratford — bog-standard for November. I am spending way too much time at my desk working on a grant application for the choir, but the outside world is not at all tempting anyway.

The dominance of American content in the news and entertainment media makes this time of the year particularly bleak in Ontario. It’s just the inevitable slide into winter; get your snow tires on and clean the furnace. The most festive thing on this month’s agenda was detailing the car, which looks and smells brand new all over again.

I have decided to visit the Ottawa-based wing of the kin group at Christmas, and to spare myself the strain and risk of driving (a full day of highway — no mere bagatelle). So I’m booked on the train, where I expect to spend Christmas Day in a post-Midnight Mass doze. The cheapest possible fares are still available on both the 25th and 1 January — who knew? For the record, I am compulsively stingy about fares, always booking the cheapest possible seats by rail or air. In first class the toilets are no better than in steerage, and I would be just as cramped and bored. We all get there at the same time.