So much for the Ærra Gēola – the ‘before Yule’ month – Rick, sitting on a wooden bollard and surveying the universal greyness of the damp Thames-side world surrounding him, was feeling anything but festive. An hour before dusk, the biting wind, bearing dampness, penetrated his thin cloak and tunic causing him to shiver so forcefully it made him clench his fists. If he stayed here much longer he would risk pneumonia but where could he go? He had a couple of almost worthless coins, not enough to buy a loaf, never mind a passage on a ship.
Ærra Gēola – With no idea of the date, Rick pushed away nostalgic thoughts of a bustling pre-Christmas Oxford Street and the Sloane Square he remembered, and trees festooned with blue lights. Such thoughts were futile. He wondered whether his life would en
