We never celebrated Christmas at home. Every year, December 25 would pass as an ordinary day — except for the fact that everywhere was closed and there would be great telly.
No gifts to unwrap, no family feasts with turkey and all the trimmings. I remember one particular year when I was a teenager, where I heated up a microwaveable roast, sat in front of the TV and thought to myself: “Well, isn’t this a bit depressing?”
