At this time of year, whether you're listening to the radio in Darwin, Hobart, Bullamakanka, or indeed in Nelligen or in Fairfield, chances are you'll be hearing Bing Crosby sing the unforgettable lyrics, "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas".
While many people associate Christmas with snow in their yearning for a simpler time, I never want to see that white sh*t again. Right now it's a hot 34 degrees outside (that's with a C behind it, Des; here we no longer give an F when it comes to temperature) which is just perfect for me.
The only time you may hear me utter the words "How I love a white Christmas" would be if I wanted to remember the first six digits of π
(the number of letters in each word gives the digits of Pi, 3.14159 )
