On day 4 of Advent, I found myself walking down Long Acre and into Leicester Square at seven o’clock in the morning. It was still quite dark and I hadn’t slept well. I don’t sleep well –I spend too many days feeling as though I’m shrouded in muslin, and I
‘So, what do you think?’ the angel said, proudly displaying an art installation in which purple rain fell in a perfectly white room while Anna Pavlova danced. ‘Of course, it would have been better with Darcey Bussell.’ ‘She’s not dead, is she?’ I asked anxiously. We’re having a Christmas craft
I had one aim for my cloud excursion today. I wanted to see God’s red telephone. The one he uses to talk to Theresa May. It’s reassuring to hear that he’s guiding her through Brexit, but I wanted to see for myself. I also thought maybe I could pick up
The start of Advent is a good time to check in with God. He seems to have been away for much of 2016, but dropped in this morning, summoned by this plaintive tweet. He clapped his hand to his forehead (that’s why it’s so cold, and why my boiler was