It’s a mere five sleeps until the big fellow makes his appearance. For those of you with kids like mine who’ve been counting down from in excess of 100, we’ve finally made it single digits. Whoopee! I’ve been guilty of fudging the numbers on occasion only to be caught out by the little pickles when I suddenly had to go up not down. Mental maths is clearly not my strength.

Nonetheless I am embracing the build up to the grand finale as the other day it dawned on me that this might be the last year that all three believe in FC. I desperately want to hold on to these years of magic…and bribery. What will I do when I can’t scream empty threats about no shows and naughty lists? Though the five year old has already informed me that last year they were really naughty and he still came. Hmmm. They are getting wise to my ploys.

But I do love seeing the anticipation of his arrival through their eyes. The rush for the advent calendars each morning, another sleep ticked off. Their shyness and humble mutters when meeting Santa, they are never so gracious at home. This time of year highlights their innocence. An innocence that unfortunately has a sell-by date.

This Christmas is also our first since moving back home. Sadly we do have less white stuff than in Geneva, but for me there’s nothing like the community Christmassy spirit over here. We’ve carolled our socks off, met half a dozen Santas (leading to some rather probing questions from the eight year old) and stuffed our (my) faces with Quality Street. Last night I headed into London Town for a bit of razzle-dazzle West End action and I was almost tap dancing over Waterloo Bridge marvelling at how festive the city felt with its twinkly lights and work party revellers. An optimistic vibe hung in the air – reality can wait until January thank you very much.

Come the weekend we’re heading up North for family fun-filled celebrations. The husband had been hoping for a quiet Christmas at home but I’m all for the chaos, plus a ‘quiet’ Christmas usually means himself hibernating in the kitchen for hours on end while I lose patience with the various boffin toys I have no idea how to work and the kids moaning they need daddy. With relatives around to help entertain the kids I might even be able to sit back with a Baileys and watch Jude Law’s questionable dancing in The Holiday.

So the countdown has begun. We’ve ticked off the annual panic-buying of toys after the husband thought we didn’t have enough, when clearly they are going to be massively spoilt. Just waiting to jam-pack the car without the kids discovering the good stuff, and hit the dreaded M1 along with the rest of the country.

2017 has been a bit of a bumpy ride but I’m hoping to close it out in style and here’s to a calmer, happier 2018. The year of the 40th. It’s going be a good one. Just got to get Ibiza ready first…

Wishing you all a wonderful Christmassy time with those you love. Hold them tight. xxx