CAROLS are playing softly, their melodies floating into the kitchen where Miranda is standing at the hob, gently stirring mulled wine. From the bubbling pot, the smell of cinnamon and clove wafts thro

AS you know, Anne and I are early bedders, but there is one night in the year Anne insists we stay up till midnight. That, as you can guess, is New Year’s Eve. On the stroke of midnight Anne pours out

FOR most people, wassailing is something that only ever happens in traditional Christmas carols – an ancient pastime that’s no longer relevant in the 21st century. You might find a different view in W

RIGHT. I have come to a decision,” Mel said one weekend, as she cleared away the breakfast things. “In that case, I’m off. Bye, Mum, see you later!” “Wait, Seth. Stay exactly where you are! You have n

WHEN I was little, your gran used to tell me something interesting,” I say. “She said that Boxing Day was when everybody put their Christmas tree and decorations back into their boxes, and it was all

THE chimes of Big Ben, fireworks lighting up the night sky, and the popping of Champagne corks are just some of the things we, in the UK, associate with New Year’s Eve. But how does the rest of the wo