My secretaries had taken advantage of the fact that I was away on Friday and spent the time trimming their office up for Christmas. I have to say it was far more tastefully done than any of the other secretaries' rooms, with stylish baubles on the chimney breast, a rather nice swag down one pillar, and new gold decorations and lights on a not-too-large-or-straggly tree. They had sensibly steered clear of putting anything in my room - henceforth known as Bar Humbug!

I might reward their taste by taking in my Playmobil Advent Calendar - well Jack no longer appreciates it as it has no chocolate in it. And it's the only thing about Christmas that I like.

It's actually quite a shame that I'm not looking forward to the holidays this year, because my night out with the girls last week would have started it off just perfectly. Roger played Christmas Tunes when we got back, Chatsworth did look rather nice , as much as I hate to admit it, and then as I pulled up outside the house, after a long day or so, Father Christmas was driving past in his Bleaktown Lions' sponsored caravan, singing "ho! ho! ho!" and wishing goodwill on all children and sad single 30-somethings. For the first time in years the Christmas spirit is threatening to enter me, just as my son departs for climates warm. Perhaps there is a correlation.