So that surely is a great time to get writing and crafting and telling. Perfect time for cosy fireside tales, quiet reflection and dark and magical enchantments. Time to recall the stories from childhood – who told what and to whom …

When I was young my Grandfather used to tell me a story about Paddington. No, not the bear. He would tell me about the station and all the different trains that visited – their distant journeys and their exotic passengers and the quiet corners of the station that cosseted its secrets and allowed those who wished, to hide from their fellow travellers. London seemed such a long distance and time away back then.