My affirmation that we won’t get our tree until mid-December has been met universally with gasps of horror. Not me not no Christmas music. Sharp intakes of breath. Decorating the house? Maybe…I do have fairy lights on the porch, does that count? Whether I switch them on or not is another matter.

It’s not that I’m a humbug. I just don’t subscribe to interminable weeks of over-excitement for one day that largely involves sweating over a roast dinner and watching rubbish on the telly.

In my defence, I did make mince pies early this year. It had snowed and Dolly and I’d gone for a long walk on Greenham and I came back warm and glowing, and in a sudden burst of festive energy made mince pies which were inhaled in minutes. I have my moments.

Traditions are important, even if they haven’t started yet. I still get the boys advent calendars but steadfastly refuse to buy chocolate ones. I’ve only succumbed to the pleading for chocolate once, as a gesture of goodwill, after which the boys said they preferred the traditional card ones after all. We also tried Star Wars Lego advent calendars at outrageous expense. Also for one year and one year only. This year I’ve sent a forever calendar to Sean as well, along with his present, the posting of which cost more than the items themselves.

The tree we’ll get from Bagnor as always, a real one we choose and which is chopped down for us, netted and transported home to shed needles all over the house for the rest of December until December the following year (I am still finding last year’s needles in nooks and crannies). Every year I buy a new decoration. This year it’s a felt mouse holding a bell in one hand and a present in the other. I found her in Malverleys and fell in love. See? Not a humbug!

We’ll get the tree on 14th this year I think, right in the middle. And I’m wreathmaking on 16th which is another Christmas tradition I love and always look forward to. In the meantime the debate rages between beef or turkey for Christmas Day itself. The former a lighter lift sauces/condiments-wise. Could be the deciding factor.

But it’s still November. I’ve been ‘Sladed’ waiting by the cans of spam in the local post office (Merry Xmas Everybody. My most hated Christmas song. And I take offence at ‘Xmas’. Double whammy). Everywhere lights are up and fir trees festoon pub and shop doorways.

Not to be sucked into early celebrations, I shall keep my powder firmly dry and wait for December.