Christmas eating is the highlight of my year. I’m like a hog with its eyes on stalks. Every imaginable festive food fills me with joy — and boy, can I pack it away. If you saw my plate yesterday, you’d have been horrified. People say: “You’re quite slim, Sue,” but honestly, the amount I eat most days would fell a heifer. My eyes are not bigger than my belly, since my gut appears to be a bottomless pit. Fortunately I’ve got dogs that keep me fairly trim. There’s usually half an hour of regret after lunch, and then it’s time for another mince pie.
This year, I was at my parents in Croydon, South London. I must admit, we’re all a bit limp when it