Vaguely Famous Soap Opera Actors and the Unimpeachable Hours of December

Winter is absolute, a perfect, untangleable equation. There is the call centre (that now well-known view out of the window, the church tower in Ship Street, the distant hill) the walk home ('Urban Outfitters' the shop that replaced Borders is one I shall never enter) the bedsit (a haunted desolate cold). These are the days of my 39th December, and it seems that this has all there been forever, and all there will be.
Winter is absolute.
December is forever.

I spoke to a vaguely famous soap opera actor today at the call centre. I can't tell you who he is due to confidentiality regulations, but his resume was long and fairly impressive. I had hoped he would have appeared in Doctor Who, but not to be. We talked about the 'disgraceful' funding of the arts in this country. I suppose it is disgraceful, but I only said that because I thought it was the kind of thing that one should say to vaguely famous soap opera actors.