My eyes water. Wind, sharp and stinging, pushes my hood down and drives me back. I lean in, but not in a Sheryl Sandberg way. I've got 58 minutes and five tasks. Stocking fillers. A fancy gift box. A Secret Santa pick-up. Stamps. A book. Dark shapes huddle under hoods, rushing in all directions, maybe ...
"Mum can I tell you something?" I looked down at the sad little face of my four-year-old and tensed slightly, hoping it would be that she was thirsty or hungry (states often inexplicably accompanied by a sombre tone) "Today the twins in my class - you know Sarah and Robert*? They brought in Christmas cards and gave ...