ANOTHER YEAR DONE AND DUSTED This Christmas was the first we had spent sans enfants for twenty years. Jerome had opted to go to Budapest with his illusive friend Hilary (we still haven’t met her), and Arraminta went off to stay with Candida Boxer. Mrs Boxer was quite adamant that she would be no trouble, but I felt it only fair to ask if they used real candles in the house during the festive season. She answered in the negative, so felt it only fair to let Arraminta go. We needn’t had worried that our day would be lacking in childish behaviour, however. Crichton and his mother fell out with a vengeance over a needle game of Yahtzee. He should never have accused her of cheating, even though she always does. Granny T claimed five sixes with her las t throw. Clearly one of the sixes was only a three but she denied it and swept the dice onto the hearth rug along with my favourite shortbreads, before it could be proved one way or another. Crichton, who had been denied victo