My suitcase was just not ready to come back. At JFK, my olive green two wheeling 29.9 kilo treasure chest was a no show. Maybe it was the responsibility of carrying 4 tubs of my mother’s precious tomato relish back from Australia, not to mention freshly dried Kensington Pride treats from the Territory, Murray River salt, Tim Tams, Haighs caramels, and as many Cherry Ripes as would fit in the cracks. Maybe it was the looming transition from a mango ripening 36*C to a chilling 9*C that caused the loitering around the customs halls of LA. But whatever it was, after a 31 hour transit and a standoff for a further 24 hours, NYC won out in the end and Christmas was declared.

The store windows were way ahead of me. Star Wars has taken off at Bloomie’s, and Charlie Brown celebrates 50 years at Macy’s. Good grief. Sparkles compete at Saks and Bergdorf’s but the latter takes the crown with the help of a few thousand Swarovski crystals. So far no sign of Santa. The tree has yet to be lit at Rockefeller Center so the focus may change. But I may be looking in the wrong places – and too soon – especially at this time of Thanksgiving.

Last night I went for the very first time to the blowing up of the balloons in anticipation of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade today. The spectacular weather encouraged a few thousand other people to do the same and security was extremely high. It was all but impossible to move around and see anything. My curiosity about how they keep Superman and Spongebob on the ground after inflation was met from the roadside of the barricades, so I was happy to escape further investigation. The real treat was the ride home. Central Park was majestic. By contrast to the balloon crowds, there was silence and almost no-one to share the moment apart from a few joggers and people out with their dogs. The air was fresh on my face and a full moon bejeweled the sky. What else do you need – maybe it is Christmas after all…