Twenty-first

We went to the German Market today, as we have done every year for longer than I can remember; possibly since they were first invented. And every year we see the same stalls, in the same locations, and, for all I know, the same customers milling about, sipping glühwein and nibbling bratwurst. Or perhaps the stalls are actually quite different, but end up selling very similar products, as if to underline the fact that these intricate Christmas tree decorations and imposing nutcracker dolls are not hand-carved by the stall owner in his threadbare garret, but are mass-produced in a modern factory on the other side of the planet, possibly by robots. But still, the main purpose of visiting the market is not to buy armfuls of gifts, but to absorb some of the Yuletide spirit and enter into an appropriate mood for the imminent festivities. And some strudel along the way does not go amiss.