The East coast cliffs dripped rainwater into the black soup below. Buoys bobbing about like soggy croutons. My story starts here, at the beginning, before it was nearly the end. England poured grey. Even the fields reflected the greyness from the motorway. Jay loved it, loved the comforting blandness of…

A tangle of wires and musty glued pasta reindeers, Tumble without ceremony from the loft hatch It is still July Christmas started so early this year it was  called late Christmas  or mid Crimbo for its proper title People stand next to pseudo sheds and punt a tenner For a…