I'm 54 years old, this will be my first Christmas in the last 53, that will be without Mum. Her laughter, her attention (in earlier times) to the crackling on the pork, the placement of the goblets on the Christmas table, the splendour of the ribbons on the wrapped presents under the tree, and the battle to serve the perfect but ever troublesome pudding, will be so sadly missed. The little boy in me wants to run away and hide and deny that Christmas can even happen without her; the man in me is grateful that I had 53 of them with the best mum in all the world.