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

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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

I’M bored.” Ruth looked up from her magazine. How could something so crammed with TV programme listings have so little in it? “There’s nothing on, Max,” she said. Her husband turned his head. “Nothing

I really don’t like New Year. Despite happy memories of getting engaged on 31 December many moons ago, I find it makes me a bit insecure. I worry there’s a party everyone is going to that I’m not invi

CHRISTMAS 1962. Bitterly cold. Elvis was crooning on my dad’s wind-up radio. I was nine. Mum was cleaning rich folks’ houses right up to Christmas Eve because Dad was out of work. But he had a plan. M