LIKE A GOOD JEWISH GIRL, MY DAUGHTER COUNTS DOWN THE DAYS to the next Christmas from the moment Boxing Day has ended. I look on this obsession with pity. “What about the rest of the year?” I ask. “How can you wish it all away?”
There’s nowt like a good bit of hypocrisy, because from the moment the horses pass the post in the final race of the Cheltenham Festival, Friday’s