Sometimes my children ask me if I know any witches. “Yes. Your Yiayia.” My mother and her girlfriends are these brilliantly eccentric, bonkers mad women that would have totally been burned at a stake were they living in medieval England. They’ve known each other for decades, cackle like crazy and share a loyalty that is fierce. We, their daughters, are sadly nowhere near as weird. But with 25-years on us, we’ve time to cultivate it.