‘You can’t spend Christmas like that!” exclaimed friends and relatives when I revealed my plan to cycle around London on my own on Christmas Day. “I’ll be worried about you feeling lonely and depressed,” said one. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”
I understood. Usually, the idea of Christmas alone filled me with nightmarish images of isolation and despair. But I had recently lost both my parents. For the past 11 months, my brother and I had been in our parents’ house going through a lifetime of letters, books, clothes, pictures and precious possessions. I needed a break from it all. I wanted a day to explore, to dream, to be open to whatever crossed my path.
