Dear London Fog,

You never cease to amaze me. Your ability to make me feel like I live in a giant, snow globe humidifier is endlessly entertaining for me! Oddly enough, you make wandering the streets in the early morning quite enjoyable. And next to nothing makes the morning enjoyable. Well done you suspended, collection of water droplets. Oh, and you make the Earth very pretty while simultaneously instilling a desire to live in a Emily Bronte novel.
I Wish I Had a Friend Named Heathcliff,
British Weather Lover

Dear J.K. Rowling,

Write something else.
Imploringly,
I Need to Know What Happens to Albus Severus

Dear Harrods Christmas Parade,

First of all, as a disclaimer, I would like to request that you not become offended by my constructive criticism, for it is only that. I have witnessed the great efforts of Harrods to please and satisfy its clientele and my comments are only to further that objective. Now that we have that out of the way...
I need to know who organized this widely publicized extravaganza. They should be flown directly to New York City on Thanksgiving Day for a proper education. Macy's parade, anyone? I don't believe it's acceptable to call a poorly dressed clown, two women dressed as cupcakes, a perverted juggler, and one belligerent contortionist a parade. Granted, it all ended with Father Christmas meandering down the road, but my gosh, parades don't generally include 4 minutes of lag time between acts. It is supposed to be consistently joyful and not reminiscent of a freak show circus. YOU ARE HARRODS! I can almost guarantee it's not a budget issue, so what? What is keeping this from becoming a show-stopping annual London tradition? Or is it already considered that...?
I must restrict my comments to the deficient parade only because once I walked through those shiny golden doors, I was reminded why you are considered the leading London department store (and perhaps also given a clue as to where the budget was properly utilized).
Politely,
I've Seen Better