The poet grew up in children’s homes and never knew a real Christmas. Now, he makes sure hundreds of care leavers feast in style each year. How – and why – does he do it?
Christmas, says the poet Lemn Sissay, divides the world into two sorts of people. One group gathers around the domestic hearth: all jocularity and teasing, memories and traditions. The other group is, as in the Victorian cliche, outside the window looking in. They have never felt the warmth of the homely festive glow.
Most of us have families who, even if it’s with some reservation, we join for Christmas. We roll our eyes and sigh, we anticipate the annoyances; we steel ourselves for the nuances that only we could ever understand.
Related: Lemn Sissay: ‘I would die if I didn’t live in the present’
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