I’ve just had my best Christmas gift ever (Letters, 26 December). Last March, as a lone 87-year-old widower with spare rooms, I hosted a Ukrainian mum, dad and daughter of 12. In August, he got a full-time contract, so they left for the Midlands.
In October they asked if they could return to see me. They arrived on 23 December with another Ukrainian couple plus a five-year-old. There followed three days of explaining and exploring each other’s Christmas traditions, culminating with a roast haunch of venison (which I’d never cooked before).
That Christmas lunch was the most hilarious, noisy, translation-ridden fest I have experienced. To my loss, they left on Boxing Day.
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