I heard today that Christmas is less than five weeks away. I am in denial about this fact.

Normally I am one of Christmas’s biggest advocates, up there with Elves and Snowmen in sparkly wonder at its brilliance. I love all of it, the build up, the lights, the decorations, the food, the shopping (yes even the shopping because at least it’s accompanied by my favourite cheesy christmas tunes in a loop).

This year however I am in a Christmas funk. It could be because I’m currently residing in a phyciatric unit (you think?). Or it could be because I am completely taken over by the organising of my middle child’s Robot Birthday Party Spectactular. Possibly because we (like everyone I know but hey still gonna moan) are a bit skint and the thought of the cost of all that tinsel turns my tum. Whatever the reason I can’t seem to jump on board the Christmas wagon.

I have tried Christmas therapy. I have eaten mince pies (even though I don’t really like the stodgy gooey yuckiness). I have ventured into town to soak up atmosphere (leaving me with a bruised toe and seeing greed, which left as bad a taste in my mouth as the aforementioned mince pies). I popped on some festive tunes, but with depression hanging over me they sounded tacky and tuneless.

So for now I’m going to have to opt out. Concentrate on getting me better and hope there is enough time left afterwards to organise a nice Christmas for my children. My hope is for a quiet one, lots of snuggling on the sofa watching Christmas movies. Good food, good company and a warm fire. So I have less than five weeks, here’s hoping it all works out for the best.