After all I said last week about the ‘Big Red Bloke’; this Christmas Eve feels a bit odd as there are no children here tonight, so we won’t be putting out the usual glass of sherry, and mince-pie. One year at my Nan’s, I even remember writing a letter to Father Christmas, catching it alight, and watching it drift up the chimney. Every year we would leave out the sherry and mince-pie, and a carrot of course for the reindeer. As I got older, I remember seeing the magic in the eyes of my youngest sister when she saw the crumbs on the empty plate in the morning. Then I saw the magic in the eyes of my own children, and now in the eyes of my niece and nephew who usually come to stay for Christmas. But this year they have flown to sunnier climes for a holiday with Australian cousins, so there are no children here tonight. No children… no Father Christmas… no magic… You know what? I think I might pander to the child still locked somewhere inside of me, and put out the sherry and mince-pie anyway, it would be a shame to break with tradition just because there are no actual children here tonight.