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Christmas Magic

The white, crisp pillowcase and freshly laundered school sock were the harbingers of Christmas magic when I was a boy. I would lay them out at the end of my bed on Christmas Eve and finally drift into the dark womb of a pregnant sleep.


Last week we had a visit from Lara's Godmother Barbara. Twenty years ago she was our midwife, she was involved in the birth of our first daughter Eva and became her Godmother and then she was present at the precarious and premature birth of  Lara


An almost overwhelming sense of oppressive sadness has settled on my heart over the past few days. When I have not been absorbed in my daughter Lara's facial surgery, from which she is now recovering, I have followed avidly the coverage and commentary around the