It has made me rather homesick, for normally at this time of year I would be making preparations for the Great Homeward Christmas Eve Party. I feel that I cannot leave, however, until the village is out of the clutches of Beaver Hateman.
Christmas Island has an administrative body which basically governs the island, of which the head Administrator and his wife are known in some circles as the King and Queen.
Chief amongst the old ladies of Church Square is Miss Fitzbuller, and it turns out that forty years ago she went to school with the Queen of Christmas Island.
They have been having a good old chinwag about hockey teams, school chums, the old times and looking at old faded photographs.
It did not surprise me when she told me that she and the other ladies of Church Square had decided that they would stay on the island. The climate is delightful, there are strong young men to do things and she tells me that they intend to celebrate Christmas Day everyday from now on.
It does, of course, mean that there is no longer anyone to run the teashops. So the Old Monkey and I have decided to rename one of them Chez Oncle and run it ourselves.
We are doing a brisk trade - the remaining old Homesears, and the pirates in particular, do really like a nice cream tea.
Beaver Hateman still insists that he is in charge, but as I keep reminding him - of what does he think he is in charge?
It seems to me that Homesea could drift forever, about the oceans of the world, no longer serving any useful purpose in his hands.