‘It was like a Tarantino movie where the bad chase the bad,’ says our columnist Carla Carlisle as events in Russia consume her attention.
My first English Christmas was spent in Cambridge. The carol service at King’s College Chapel. A heavy snowfall. Icy grandeur. It was beautiful. It was cold. ‘There is nothing between the flat lands of East Anglia and Siberia except Ely Cathedral,’ my Cambridge friends told me. I’ve now repeated that many times. Unlike Sarah…
