GOOD editors, and writers, avoid cliché. It was advice that I received early on and has stood me in good stead. But once December hoves into view…
The festive season must be deep and crisp and even. Plump robins should be hopping merrily on the wall outside my office (even though they are little bullies of birds). I demand fur and firelight, foxes and pheasants, and ‘hail fellow well met’. If anything tries to leave its cliché-forged tramlines it receives short shrift. Jolly vicars, magical midnight Mass, a dusting of
