Editor’s letter
Over the years, I’ve had all sorts of Christmases. Most have been joyous and merry, others not so much. There’s been the large-scale gatherings, complete with colour-coordinated Christmas grottos, five-course menus and carefully chosen gifts wrapped in handcrafted paper. Then there’s been the more intimate, laid-back affairs with tradition passed over in favour of modern Christmas brunch and Secret Santa presents. One time, I outsourced Christmas dinner planning and prep to a food delivery company and headed to my caravan thinking, “This year will be a breeze.” And it was because I was so much in holiday-mode that I cracked the Champagne early and only got around to making the frightfully festive canapes. Oops! Then there was the year my boyfriend crashed his car on Christmas Day. He was fine,…