claytoncast

It was Christmas Eve, and everything was exactly as it should be. Brayden and I had returned from a Roman spa by the Strand, feeling utterly relaxed. The tree was decorated, presents wrapped, and we were dressed for dinner out. All was calm and bright, until my phone buzzed. A notification from Chase Bank informed me that someone had attempted to order £6.99 worth of Domino’s pizza in Liverpool. Odd, given that I’d spent the afternoon in a eucalyptus-scented haze nowhere near Liverpool. Moments later, my phone rang. No Caller ID. “Hi, this is Nigel from Chase Fraud Department.” Nigel. Not a name that inspires confidence, but the alert had just popped up, so I stayed on the line. He explained that someone had tried to set up a standing order for £350 to Amazon. “Was that you?” Certainly not, though given my spending habits, it was almost plausible. Nigel then asked for my account balances “to secure them for the record.” A crafty script, but something about his tone—a little too ba...

The prospect of Christmas has always filled me with excitement. As a small child, December felt endless, each day marked by opening tiny chocolate-filled doors on the advent calendar, counting down how many sleeps remained, and sneaking peeks in the back of my parents’ wardrobes to confirm if the Chad Valley Bandit Chase game had really arrived. That anticipation hasn’t faded with age—in fact, it has evolved. For many years, December has meant not just Christmas but also a holiday, sometimes both rolled into one. Yet, my ideal Christmas remains one spent at home. Last year, Brayden and I celebrated our first Christmas together aboard our boat, and it was nothing short of delightful. We enjoyed each other’s company, took a refreshing Christmas Day walk, indulged in a healthy Christmas lunch (well, the walk was healthy!), and topped the holiday off with a Boxing Day visit to the theatre. But the real cherry on top was a four-day trip to New York after the festivities. This year, howeve...