Christmas morning in London felt quieter than expected. No snow, just that particular December stillness when most of the city stays indoors.
I’d planned nothing elaborate. Coffee, reading, maybe a walk if the weather cooperated. The past months have been dense with festivals, conferences, teaching commitments. Sometimes the best gift is structured emptiness.
Spent the morning finishing a manuscript that’s been sitting unfinished since November. Not festive reading, but deadlines don’t pause for holidays. There’s something satisfying about completing work while the rest of the world celebrates.
Around noon, walked through Regent’s Park. The usual joggers were absent. Families with children, couples walking slowly, people who seemed to have nowhere urgent to be. London operates differently during Christmas week. Gentler rhythms.
Called my parents in Moscow. Time zones make these conversations brief but necessary. They asked about snow, weather, whether I’m eating properly. Standard parental concerns that feel comforting across continents.
Evening brought unexpected productivity. Started outlining workshop materials for Cardiff in June. Something about holiday quietness clears mental space for planning. The Literature Wales collaboration needs detailed preparation, and winter afternoons provide focus that busy autumn days never offer.
Ordered takeaway instead of cooking. Practical choice rather than festive tradition. Thai green curry while reviewing festival applications for next year’s ECG programming. The contrast felt right. Food from one culture while planning events celebrating literary diversity.
No Christmas tree this year. The flat works better without seasonal decoration. Clean lines, clear surfaces, books arranged by current relevance rather than alphabetical order.
The day passed without drama or profound revelations. Just steady work punctuated by brief moments of recognition that December 25th means something to many people, even if that meaning stays personal and undefined.
Best Christmas present was realizing 2025’s professional momentum feels sustainable rather than exhausting. Foundation work rather than scattered energy.
Posted from the writing desk, watching London settle into evening darkness.
— Writer Julia Zolotova
