Boxing Day for me generally means one thing: a second day of celebration. More often than not, this takes place with my wife’s family north of the border in Scotland.
I am feeling unhappy, deeply unhappy, following some recent events. The reason: yet again I find myself in awkward social situations where people are handing out sweets to my kids without asking me first. I simply do not understand the mentality.
Okay mums and dads, I have an issue. It’s this: parents handing out sweets to other children to mark a special occasion such as a birthday.
On the run up to the summer holidays, I was very aware that our diet had become very unimaginative. Mrs Adams and I would eat the same dishes in rotation, as would the kids.
Greggs and I have a little history. Allow me to explain. Earlier this year we ripped out our old kitchen and had a new one installed. With nowhere to prepare breakfast, I decided it might make sense to take the children to Greggs each morning. This was the only café I knew of that was
