Society

Each Boxing Day my mother would take out her pen and pad, And estimate the cost price of those Christmas gifts we’d had, From relatives and family friends. And when the sum fell short, Of the monetary value for the various gifts she’d bought, She’d write it in her ledger. Underlined in red. So, Aunty Bertha, Mrs Bridges – to my mum, they were now dead. ‘A pair of socks for twenty pence! A slinky half as dear! I’ll tell you this for nothing, son – they’re getting nowt next year. I bought that cow some Matchmakers, not just mint, but orange too And all I have is ankle socks

In Dumas’ great novel, The Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantès was condemned to life imprisonment in the notorious Chateau d’If, a lonely tower off the French coast, plus an annual flogging. The human mind being what it is he couldn’t sit peacefully enjoying his sea view. Instead his anxious thoughts continually anticipated the pain to come. It isn’t clear in which month he was whipped but it seems likely that he was probably worrying about it for at least three months in advance. I know how he feels: in much the same way, I am among those who start losing sleep about Christmas Day in mid-October. No one could

I’ve seen a few spectres in my life, the most recent last year, just before New Year’s Eve. We were invited to stay with some friends in Devon. Recently restored, the house is beautiful. My daughter’s room was the sweetest: just down the corridor from ours. The first night we all slept soundly, replete with food and wine and gossip. On the second night we retired slightly earlier. I awoke at around 2 a.m. Seeing a light flickering, I walked down the corridor to my daughter’s room. She was wide awake, watching a film on my laptop. She too had woken up and couldn’t get back to sleep. I closed

From Jacob Rees-Mogg MP Q. My two eldest sons are becoming quite good at playing the trumpet but when they practise this wakes the baby. Nanny does not approve. I don’t want to discourage them. But we mustn’t upset Nanny. What do you recommend? A. Youthful trumpetry is often a precursor to fame and fortune in other areas. The late Sir Bernard Fergusson (Lord Ballantrae) entitled his memoirs The Trumpet in the Hall. Give Nanny Veronica a harmonica to join in. Let them practise in the wine cellar while she watches baby on a hand-cam. This is an extract from Dear Mary’s Celebrity Problems Solved, which appears in the Christmas

As a child, I had a horror of the idea of Christmas in a hot place. Somebody told me that in Australia they ate roast turkey on the beach. This sounded positively irreligious, and I gave no consideration to the fact that the chief subject of the Christmas story probably never enjoyed a white Christmas himself (though it can be surprisingly cold in the Judaean hills at this time of year). Actually, I never experienced a white Christmas either, on the day itself, though I do remember the evening of Boxing Day 1962 when it began to snow, and didn’t melt till March. The other day, I re-read The Sword

We’re closing 2017 by republishing our twelve most-read articles of the year. Here’s No. 9: Damian Thompson on Pope Francis: On 2 January, the Vatican published a letter from Pope Francis to the world’s bishops in which he reminded them that they must show ‘zero tolerance’ towards child abuse. The next day, the American Week magazine published an article that told the story of ‘Don Mercedes’ — Fr Mauro Inzoli, an Italian priest with a passion for expensive cars and underage boys. In 2012, Pope Benedict stripped Inzoli of his priestly faculties, effectively defrocking him. In 2014, however, they were restored to him — by Pope Francis, who warned him to

This time last year, in a review for The Spectator of two books on extraterrestrial life, I mentioned how, as a child, the highlight of the summer holidays was when my cousin Simon came to stay. Our great shared passion was mysteries: not only flying saucers, but everything from the Loch Ness Monster to Atlantis as well. Naturally, ghosts figured high on the list of our obsessions. We knew all the classic tales of hauntings: from a spectre in chains reported by Pliny the Younger to have roamed a house in Athens, to Borley Rectory. Nothing, though, gave us quite as delicious a shudder of dread as a photograph of

My first husband, the writer Rayne Kruger, was friendly with Lord Armstrong, who owned Bamburgh Castle. In the 1950s, when Rayne was young and struggling, Lord Armstrong would lend him the castle keep as a bolthole in which to get on with his writing. He and his then wife had a cat called Gato. Every night when they sat in the sitting room, Northumbrian wind howling outside and waves crashing below, the cat, sleeping in front of the fire, would suddenly wake. At exactly the same time each evening, he’d stand up, back arched, hair on end, and his eyes would follow what Rayne swore must have been a cat-ghost,

Christmas splurge How much extra do households spend at Christmas? — £500, according to the Bank of England. Over the course of December our spending on food increases by 10%, alcoholic drinks by 20% and books 35%. — £645, according to OnePoll (2016), including £117 spent on a partner’s gift. — £796, according to YouGov (2015), including £159 on food and drink and £596 on gifts. This is an extract from Barometer, in the Christmas issue of the Spectator