We pull that cracker that is Christmas and enjoy the exploding drama,  hugs,  love,  nostalgia; the damn essence of life that it is. The Quality Street is judged, the condiments listed, the music incessantly sung, the importance of being free to do what you want whilst rubbing along with everyone, wearing paper hats and eating everything in sight is muled over along with the wine. Our butters join us at the Christmas table and as always they are a very welcome guest, though, if anyone, it is the red plastic fortune telling fish that steals the show.