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Don't Eat With Your Mouth Full

Where can we live but days?

Yule Do
I didn't get to do my Little Women thing at the shelter on Christmas morning after all. It turned out that far too many cooks had turned up for the available broth, and so I was shunted on to general duties. In my case that meant three hours opening and shutting the door that divided the kitchen, storerooms, offices, etc. from the big day room where the guests were, and making sure none of the latter wandered 'back stage'. Ironically, I spent Christmas morning literally shutting the door in the faces of the homeless.

Not that they seemed to mind, and a full English was had by all. I quite enjoyed it, actually, despite having to stand in close proximity to a misplaced apostrophe ("Guest's" for "Guests'") far longer than is safe for a pedant. After a while, I began to cast myself in various gatekeeperly roles: I spent some time as Janus, the Dunsinane Porter, St Peter and assorted psychopomps. "I am the still point of this turning world," I told myself. "Stability and salaries lie behind me, before me the abyss."

But after a while the two looked much the same.