How to combat seasonal stress

Two words. NO CARDS.

I bought the cards, and the stamps, then decided no, f**k it, I’m not writing them. This was unbelievably freeing. It felt like the equivalent of flinging off all your clothes and streaking towards the sea on a Caribbean island. If that sounds implausible, try this. The presents are wrapped, and some have been sent, but I’ve arranged a centralised gift-drop for all those in or around London. I will take the gifts to this location, being that I’m going there anyway - but after that, the recipients better shift ass or their kids won’t get them.

Kids only. No adult is receiving a present from us this year outside the immediate family and special friends. And from this year, no child who neglects (or whose parents neglect) to write a thank-you card for their gift will receive one in future.

Credit crunch - this has been neatly avoided by buying two-thirds of the presents in January and in the sales. I am no more out of pocket than I would be in any normal month. This pleases me immensely *smug mode*.

Christmas tree - all my antique, glass, plaster, delicate or sentimental ornaments are in tissue, in storage. This year, it’s a fake tree, plastic ornaments and breakered lights. Because I’m not stressed by the possibility of impaling, electrocution or other festive highlights, R couldn’t care less about the tree. Sorted.

Food - it’s a normal if slightly bingey week. My stepmother, god love her, is buying in the whole shooting match from M & S. A woman after my own heart. This has the result that the wimminfolk can wassail and likewise cut a jape along with the men and not spend the whole feckin festival chained to the stove.

You see? A slightly cut-throat approach that pays immediate and tangible dividends. I RULE!