Christmas might look a little different for many of us this year – from less people round the table to what we actually eat (smaller joints of meat are proving popular against the traditional huge turkey) – but that doesn’t solve the annual dilemma of where everyone will sleep.
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I woke on Tuesday at 4am and could hardly breathe. I was sweating (and, post-menopausal that I am, I never sweat) and racked with worry. I grabbed my hair, put my head in my hands, and said out loud, ‘What am I doing? What was I thinking?’