We spent some time on Saturday throwing axes at the Christmas market. It’s not what you think. Or maybe it is. On Saturday, I’m doing some writing in bed (that happens now), and we’re deciding if we want to get festive. No, really. ‘We should go out. Let’s go out.’ We didn’t go out. We made pancakes, or Neil did. ‘Do we eat breakfast at night now?’ asks Isla. ‘No, it’s just really dark out in the mornings these days.’…
