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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Our columnist was fond of the days between Christmas and the new year for many reasons

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

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

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