I threw a potato. Mum brandished a knife … would whole-family therapy save our Christmas?
Eight years ago, after yet another disastrous festive get-together, my mother decided we needed professional help. Which is how a new festive tradition began It is early December, and I am sitting in a psychoanalyst’s office in central London, about to do 60 minutes of pre-Christmas family therapy. Outside, the Christmas lights are twinkling. I can hear a drunk person literally shouting for joy on the street beneath the window. But inside the consulting room, it is eerily sil
Eight years ago, after yet another disastrous festive get-together, my mother decided we needed professional help. Which is how a new festive tradition began It is early December, and I am sitting in a psychoanalyst’s office in central London, about to do 60 minutes of pre-Christmas family therapy. Outside, the Christmas lights are twinkling. I can hear a drunk person literally shouting for joy on the street beneath the window. But inside the consulting room, it is eerily sil
