It’s Christmas Eve and I’m afraid to say I have a cold. I haven’t had one in months, even years, but I’m currently all snotted up. I must say, though, I don’t feel that bad for it: my nose may be running, but I have all the warmth and comfort of the house I grew up in. This will be my first Christmas here in nine or ten, and although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss lyn, something about being here feels right. Mums downstairs in the kitchen, just as she always used to be; dad’s doing various things around the house. Apart from my brothers not being here, it’s rather like the Christmases of my childhood. After a year of so much change, cold or no cold, this is probably exactly what I needed.