In which Bonnie and I behave quite childishly

As the days ticked down toward my dear friend Bonnie's inevitable and unwilling departure from London, it was of the utmost importance that the two of us get together in our favorite city one last time (for now, anyway) and make a day of it.

After a bite of lunch and a peak at the Covent Garden Christmas tree, we headed to the "Winter Wonderland" that springs up yearly at Hyde Park.  It's part fair, part market, part amusement park, and completely hilarious.

There's the Christmas markets . . .

The singing Bavarian reindeer . . .

The ice-skating rink . . . 

 . . . and the haunted mansion . . . ??

Yes, apparently in the UK, Christmas has its own freaky element, and not just because all your relatives are coming round.

Nothing says, "come on down our chimney, Santa!" like Jaws bursting out your front window.

Bonnie, pointing out the clever "re-purposing" of the haunted house ride with the strategic insertion of Mr. Scrouge.

As you can see by this action shot from within the ride itself, I can vouch for his having made it that much scarier.

Naturally, no visit to a Christmas Winter wonderland/fair/market/amusement park is complete without visiting the Big Man himself:

What??  All the other kids in line were crying!  (We really did want to cry when Santa told us once upon a time he'd been an actor in the West End.)

But I bet the other kids didn't get any mulled wine as an after-Santa treat!  (at least I hope they didn't . . . )

As Bonnie and I sat and sipped our mulled wine while reviewing our Santa portraits with pleasure, we happened to look up just in time to see the one thing that could make our Hyde Park Christmas Winterwonderland experience even more absurd:

Nuns.

I just couldn't resist - Bonnie pretended to be taking a picture of me while the Mistresses God were taking in the Winterwonderland Talking Tree statue (you know, cause every fair's gotta have one).  Naturally, my enthusiasm could not be suppressed.

"Do you have UK citizenship?"

Herbert, my stud from the carousel.

Trafalgar Square at night with the yearly Christmas tree from Norway's government.  (When we saw it they hadn't had the lighting ceremony yet - probably still fumigating the poor thing to rid it of the stench of lutefisk.)

Sporting my new haircut at the coffee place where we warmed up before I had to go home.

Gunna miss you, Bonnie Jean!!