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Then Mum came out with a big bowl of pick-and-mix sweets and let them all go mad on Callum’s big trampoline.

When the kids left, we had baked Camembert with cranberry bread, lit the coal fire and sang carols for Callum and Daisy. It would have been a perfect, twee family moment, except that Callum switched the word ‘Christmas’ for ‘poo’ in every song.

Tuesday December 22nd

Bad night with Daisy. Couldn’t face braving the shops for Christmas presents.

Saw Nana Joan instead.

The manager at Nana’s care home is very progressive and has banned tinsel from the building. She’s persuaded a local artist to do modern, minimalist decorations.

The lounge area was hung with stainless-steel stars and reinforced glass icicles.

There had been a complaint about the decorations though, because mad Joan tried to attack another resident with a glass icicle.

Nana was in good spirits but won’t come round for Christmas dinner. She’s got a dodgy stomach and is ‘farting like an old horse’.

These days she only eats bananas and boiled sweets, so has constant bowel trouble.

I told her nobody would care if she farted.

She said, ‘This isn’t justfarting, love. It’s bloody tribal drums. Anyway, the care home is holding a séance on Christmas Day. I don’t want to miss it. I’m looking forward to talking with your granddad.’

Thursday December 24th

Morning

Last minute Christmas shopping is SOO stressful.

Ended up on Oxford Street, ramming the crowds with the stroller, trying to fling whatever I could into my bags for life (Remembered them! YESSSS!).

I wondered if I should buy Alex a present. Sort of a thank you for everything he’s done for me this year. But what do you buy a man who owns fifty hotels? So I decided just to buy for family and Althea.

The shops were REALLY busy, so cleared my head with a cup of coffee and a jumbo chocolate teacake.

Two hours later, I still hadn’t bought anything. And the shops were looking bare.

Ran into British Home Stores and filled my basket. All logic left me and I just bought whatever I could lay my hands on.

In the end I bought:

Bottles of real ale called things like ‘Old Fart’ and ‘Geriatric’ (most stupid purchase ever, since parents own a pub and get really good quality beer at trade price).

A walking stick full of jelly beans (like Callum doesn’t get enough sugar).

A ‘grow your own’ Venus flytrap.

A little vending machine of Cadbury’s chocolate miniatures (Mum will be happy at least).

A mojito set (one glass, one mini bottle of Bacardi, one sachet lime flavouring – £25. Feel a bit ripped off.).

A foam moustache on a lolly stick.

Afternoon

Got the train home with lots of other sweaty, irritable shoppers.

Daisy cried the WHOLE train journey.