My Christmas joy was sparked at a very young age – literally, as the questionable wiring of a string of cheap lights caught fire in our living room. Despite the trauma, my passion for the festive season wasn’t extinguished. (The charred sofa, however, was.) Christmas, to me, is like the dessert to the year. It’s the sweet after a long, difficult, painful meal – like one eaten in a restaurant where there’s a play area for children. We hope to have something delicious for our year-dessert, maybe Black Forest cake, a mountain of ice cream, a Jan Ellis pudding or anything related to fudge. But if this challenging year has taught me anything, it’s to expect the worst. So I’m already mentally and spiritually preparing myself for a trifle –…
